Why Stop Now?
by Pukkina
Summary: Jackson found the dead assassin's gun in the house before Lisa did. Joe was too late. Two small, seemingly unimportant events lead to a lifetime of events. Little spin on end scene plus sequel. Possibly LJ, but maybe not.
1. Uncontrollable

**Summary...**What would have happened if Lisa hadn't found the gun? What if Joe had been just a little too late? How one move can change a lifetime of events...possibly LJ but maybe not. Please review, I love the little messages in my inbox.

**Disclaimer**...don't own...yadayada...these things are so overrated. Do we really think that Mr. Craven and all of the other Red Eye associates spends their spare time reading fanfic? Don't think so. So anyway, I don't own Cillian Murphy, Rachel McAdams, or anything correlated to this movie.

**Rating**...I'm going to give it an M because I really have no idea where my crazy little mind will take this.

**Author's Note**...I've had this idea in my head for a while now and it is just stuck there like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth. So I figured I'd give it my best shot. I'm not entirely sure where this is all going, but it'll come to me. Enjoy. xo

Lisa's eyes rolled violently into the back of her head as she made a complete flip down the stairs. When she landed she nearly expected the Olympic scorers to make a remark, but no. She just rested in a heap at the bottom, her head for the moment seeming way too heavy to support itself.

A sudden cross feeling of nausea and exhaustion washed over her body. She so strongly yearned to be upstairs, curled up in a fetal ball in her childhood bed, the light pink sating comforter pulled tight around her shoulders as she drifted off into a sleep uncomplemented by men with weapons and piercing blue eyes...her own hazels began to flutter.

_No._ This wasn't over. They snapped back open to see Jackson lurching down the stairs, his knife swinging precariously in his hand. It wasn't demonstrated on his lips but she saw the smirk burrowed down under his cheekbones.

_Cocky bastard. You haven't won._

Lisa busted out of her cocoon and tried to stand but the pain was dizzying. _The fucker probably broke something when he threw me. _Instead she frantically crawled, reminding her of the 'walk like a bear, no, walk like a crab' games from grade school phys ed class.

_The gun should have slid over here...after the assassin...it had to have gone flying when I hit him..._

Lisa's hands began shaking with shoots of panic as they rummaged beneath the hall bureau for the revolver.

_Fuck, where is it?_ Her eyes scanned the room and finally rested on her father in the doorway. His face held a mixed expression of anger, confusion, and fright.

"Da-" she was brutally cut off as a pair of hands, Jackson's rough, calloused hands, snatched up her hair. Feeling like fire ants were nesting in her scalp, Lisa shrieked as, like in slow motion, Joe ran forward. She saw the glint of a pistol in his hand, the small security he kept in the sidecloset, and tried to conceal a grin. _Yes. We win._

Wrong. As Joe raised the pistol to fire, Lisa felt a cold metal pressed against her head, a slight relief to the fire spreading down from her roots to her ears. She sucked in a few breaths of frigid morning air and met her father's scared eyes with her own.

"Was this what you were looking for, Leese?" Jackson rasped into her ear, pressed the gun indicatively tighter into her skin. She wanted to struggle against him, elbow him, something, but the firearm at her temple and the thought of the blade Jackson had hidden somewhere rendered her motionless. She stifled a moan.

"Shoot, Joe, and she's dead," Lisa could hear the icy smirk in his voice. "I may be a lousy shot, but a toddler couldn't miss at point blank."

"Let her go...please," Joe's warm brown eyes tried to meet Jackson's icy blues. "She hasn't done anyth-"

"Now, Joe-excuse me, Mr. Reisert, how would you know that? Were you there on the plane?" Lisa tried to put some distance between herself and Jackson's chest, but the gun and the arm that was now around her neck stopped her. With her own neck so close to the hole in Jackson's, she felt so utterly repulsed that she pulled away from him. At her movement he pulled her closer, so close that she could now feel his shallow breaths.

Joe didn't answer the question. Jackson grinned at the older man and ran his slender fingers through Lisa's hair. "Joe? I'm waiting for an answer." The tips of his fingers came to a rest at the bottom, where he tugged on a limp curl. Lisa bit her lip and fought back what seemed like gallons and gallons of bile.

"N-no," Joe spat out. Jackson cocked his head mirthfully.

"See, I didn't think so," Jackson continued. "You weren't there when your oh-so adorable daughter told me about that unfortunate little scuffle in the parking lot two years ago, nor when I offered sincere sympathy to her. You weren't there when your sweet baby girl _stabbed me in the neck_ with a Frankenstein pen. You surely weren't there when she threw a fire extinguisher at me and stabbed me in the leg with her, might I add, fashionable stiletto. Were you?"

"I wish I'd stabbed you somewhere else, you no- good son of a bi-"

Jackson's hand moved to her neck and tightened and with a subdued yelp she quieted.

Not wishing to risk Lisa's physical nor mental health at the possibility of a non-rhetorical question, Joe Reisert forced out an answer between clenched teeth. "No," but he couldn't help what came next, "who are you? Why are you doing this?"

Jackson seemed to be on the verge of hysteric laughter as he spoke in what could be considered tender words if it were not for the pure fact that he was a monster. "Now, Leese, sweetheart, what did we learn on the flight?"

Lisa bit back tears, hating to feel so powerless at this sadist's hands. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Now, now, of course you do. Before we landed, remember, you'd finally aced the course..."

Her voice shook as she spoke. "D-don't ask questions..."

"Exactly. Mr. Reisert, your daughter is brilliant and it'd be such a shame for me to blow that smart mind out of her skull right now due to her daddy's stupidity. I will give you this much, though: I'm just doing my job."

A siren began to wail in the distance. _Please, _Lisa tried to telepathically urge her captor. _Just idle a little longer, oh, please..._

She was dreaded her inevitable fate. Death, or...what? She had no idea what Jackson had planned for her. For any other man, she would have picked the generic result, death. Rippner really had no reason at all for keeping her alive. But then...she hadn't been able to predict the motive behind his frightening blue eyes right from square one, now was no different.

In a way, she wanted him to kill her. She wanted to be forever rid of the memories of the past night and from two years ago. She was tired. She had no more will to fight, and yet...she didn't want to stop. She had a small little sect of pride and willpower still left in her that screamed for her to do something. She couldn't let him win this. For her, for her dad, and for the Keefes. Hell, for that little blonde girl on the plane. The battle was not yet over.

Joe's face had turned an ashen shade of pale yellow long ago. "Your...your job," he repeated flatly. _Oh, Dad, how I wish you could still just be sitting, eating your lasagna and watching the comedy marathon...I've failed you. I'm so, so sorry._

"Now you've got it. Yes, my job. And you wouldn't stop the postman from doing his job, now would you?"

This time, the question appeared to be ill-fitted for an answer as Jackson barreled on. He now spoke so quickly that, if Lisa hadn't known him better, she would have called him nervous.

"Now, Mr. Reisert, your daughter and I have some unfinished business to attend to, so we'll skip out on the dessert and coffee. It was a pleasure meeting you. Ado." With that, quick as a silverfish, Jackson pulled Lisa from the foyer and outside before Joe could fire a single shot. Lisa's fighting instinct kicked in and she struggled against him tooth and nail, screaming at the top of her lungs for help. She had to get him down, even just for a moment. The police would be here soon, and if she could just stall until then-

Jackson forcefully dragged her to his dead associate's BMW parked across the street. "Need I remind you who has the gun, Lisa?"

He managed to get her inside and took advantage of the outer lock as he got in on the driver's side. Lisa pulled and pounded on the door and window, but her efforts proved uneffective as Jackson started the car and sped off.

Lisa wanted to scream, wanted to cry, to yell, to sleep, hurt herself, hurt Jackson, throw up, anything but what she was doing right now-sitting and shaking uncontrollably despite the rising Miami heat. She convulsed in desperate dry sobs, the aquifers behind her eyes drained from the previous night. It was over. He'd won. She was going to die, and Keefe was going to die. And there was nothing at all that she could do about it.


	2. An issue of fight or flight insticts

Lisa watched precious minutes ticking by on the illuminated green digital clock as they neared the city limits.

_I need to get away. This is valuable escape time that I'm wasting here._

She frantically pondered through solution. Jumping from the moving vehicle was an option. Wait, no, it wasn't. _Damn._ She'd forgotten the outer lock and swore mentally, biting her lip.

Jackson coughed. "I've never seen you so talkative, Lisa. God, shut up already."

She scowled but did not answer. _Yes._ She feared that, at the moment, her words would be too rage-filled and thus she opted for a vow of silence. _I'll kill you with silence, bastard. You thought question-maniac Leese was bad? Well, get ready for the real thing, fucker._

"Your dad seemed nice, by the way."

Lisa couldn't stop herself. Maybe the old adage that redheads had bad tempers was right. "_Do not_ talk about my father, Jack."

He smirked and only cringed slightly at the shortened name. "So, she _does_ speak."

Lisa turned redder than her hair and crossed her arms. "Why am I here? Why didn't you just kill me?" _And then, ladies and gentleman, faster than a speeding bullet, she can switch back to her old self._

He sighed and clicked his tongue, then said quietly, "I could, if you really want me to."

Lisa thought it over, though she was pretty sure that last jab was sarcasm. Nevertheless, she replied bitterly, "Depends on what the alternative is."

"Do you want the whole, 100 percent bonafide truth of why you're here?"

"No," she spat sardonically. "I want the lie."

He cut his eyes at her. "Watch it, Leese. Do you, or do you not?"

She grunted angrily, "I do." _Why does that remind me so much of a wedding vow?_

He took a deep breath. It rattled in his throat, and Lisa bristled at the thought of the hole in his throat. "You're here for a multitude of reasons, the first being that the Keefe job isn't finished yet." He still had to press a hand against his throat when he spoke. Lisa idly wondered when the hell he planned on getting treated for the gaping hole in his windpipe.

She swallowed. "And?"

He grinned. "The next is that, when an outsider is used for a job, they cannot simply be released. They either are killed or taken on by the company."

Lisa felt sick. "Kill me, then, because there's no way that I'm going to work for your company."

"You're lucky though, Lisa. There are exceptions."

She frowned. "Such as?"

"Such as personal vendettas. Vendettas in the form of a promise I made to you back on the plane."

Wracking her brain to its farthest, dustiest corners, Lisa still came up dry. "Which was...?"

"Lisa, I intend to steal you."

Her reaction was one quite similar to a fish out of water. Mouth drier than the desert, jaw falling open, shudders running down her body, and a thick, chilling sweat coursing her skin, Lisa nearly fainted.

"You...are _not_ going to steal me!"

"Oooh, good comeback." Jackson flipped on the air conditioner as Lisa reddened.

"Why? I don't get it. What do you _mean_ you're stealing me?" She bit back the whine in her voice, hating herself and hating Jackson. Hell, she hated that random guy walking on the street.

Jackson sighed irritably. "'What I mean', sweetheart, is that I never had any intention of letting you go. When I watched you, I'll admit, I found you interesting, different, compelling. Don't ask why. I'm not sure myself. You're not extraordinary by any means."

She stiffened, shocked that she could take personal offense even by the person who she hated most at the moment. "Thanks."

"So, I had a cast-iron plan. I'd brought a little gift that I would slip into your latte. Remember, Leese? Starbucks? Wouldn't that've been nice?"

The thought repulsed her. "I wouldn't have drank it. I hate coffee."

Jackson gripped her wrist, eyes flashing. "Why are you lying over something so trivial?"

His rough nails bit into her skin and she struggled. He didn't release her until his fingers had made two small holes in her arm, blood dripping slightly.

She winced and rubbed it once he jerkily released her.

"Bastard," she whispered.

"You could have had it so easy," he rambled on. Lisa raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "We get off the plane, you obliviously drink your latte, take a little nap, and when you wake up-voila. We're at my apartment and I'm not as secretly pissed at you as I am now, as I was back at your house. I'm not murderous. You're not bruised and bleeding, and your family and friends are completely safe. By the way, are you aware that you're not wearing any shoes?"

Lisa ignored the last comment. "What do you mean? My family and friends aren't safe?"

"At the moment, they are," Jackson put his blinker on and coasted to the left into a driveway.

"At the moment?" Lisa cried. "What have you done to them?"

The car stopped in front of an expansive building in the woods. "Like I said, nothing..._at the moment._ But for every action there is a consequence."

Lisa rubbed her glistening eyes. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"Its simple, Leese, simple. You harm me physically in any way–goodbye, Daddy. You try to escape–see you, Mommy. Resist me in any way and that brother of yours is history."

Lisa's head snapped up. "I don't have a brother."

Jackson snorted. "Lies, lies, lies. I followed you for eight weeks, Leese. At the moment, I'm om-fucking-niscient. Twenty-two years old, student at Colorado University, tall, blonde, good-looking, an athletic dapper young man named Alex? Do you call him 'Al', Leese? Is he the turkey-cutter at Thanksgiving dinner? Did he used to beat up your old boyfriends? I'm sure they didn't mind though. Hell, if I were gay, I'd fuck him."

Lisa was shaking with white-hot anger. In an uncontrollable bout of violence, she slapped him. "Don't you _dare_ talk about my brother!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the window. Her neck collided with the plastic underneath and she felt a blackness slide briefly over her brain. Jackson forced her back into reality.

"So, I can't talk about your father or brother, Leese? Lets talk about you, then. You never answered why you were such a loner, other than the whole rape thing. You have to be over that by now. And tell me, why haven't you fought me so far yet? I know you're able, so why not? Am I finally working my way into your soft spot?"

Lisa tensed her jaw and spat at him. "Fuck you."

He calmly wiped his face and then dragged his hand over her face. She sputtered as he spoke. "All good things with time, Leese. All with time." Then he let her go and left her writhing against the window, scrubbing at her face.

He cut the engine and stuffed the keys into his pocket. "I'll expect answers to those questions, by the way. But not now. I'm too sick of playing Socrates at the moment." He opened the door and stepped out, then jogged around to Lisa's side to let her out.

Jackson grabbed her tightly by the upper arm and clutched her against him.

"By the way," he whispered into her ear. She cringed. "I shouldn't have to remind you not to run away. This place is surrounded by security cameras. Had you fooled, didn't I? These aren't ordinary trees. The cameras feed inside, where they are constantly monitored. If, rather, when, an employee of the Association sees you, you'll be shot and all three of your family members will die slow, painful deaths. Mostly painful. How's that sound?"

"Sounds just peachy, _Jack_," she hissed back in his face. He slapped her and her head lolled backwards.

"Watch it, Leese," he snapped. "You're treading on thin ice here."

Lisa desperately wanted to yell or scream at him, but did not. Instead she let him lead her inside. _I'll be docile, Jack, for now. Just for now. You'll trust me and then, when you least expect it...I'll kill you._


	3. but i chose flight

Jackson ushered Lisa into the stark white building and tried not to let her curiosity dominate her escape instinct.

Several neat but empty desks were scattered in the corners of the wide foyer room, with several doors lining each wall. Everything was either gray, white, or black. In the middle of the room lay a vast black Oriental rug. Even the floor was a tiled white. Looking closer, Lisa noticed that there was no evidence lying in sight whatsoever to indicate that this was a building designed for _assassins._ And the desks. Lisa was accustomed to seeing memorabilia and momentos on the desks of her coworkers and herself at the Lux, but this was a whole other thing entirely. No picture frames boasting happy, healthy families. No emblazoned jackets slung haphazardly over the rickety swivel chairs. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Lisa shook her head as Jackson pulled her through a plainly painted door. "Where is everyone? Where are we?" she blurted before she could help herself. _He can't get mad at me for asking a simple question. I think. I hope._

"Probably assignment." Lisa nearly jumped at the distracted sound to his voice, expecting a more angry, annoyed tone of voice. _Hell, he's practically human._ "Don't ask questions. You'll get a more comprehensive tour later."

Lisa couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in his voice was pure sarcasm or honesty. If it was the latter, she wondered, how long did he plan to keep her here? She had to finish the job, she knew, but still hadn't quite figured out the 'stealing you' part of the deal. Was this an office building of sorts for assassins? Or did Jackson live here?

Jackson led her down the hall (again, flawless white, with Lisa beginning to wonder why the hell the painters had been so pristine) and into an elevator. He pressed the up button and soon the doors buzzed open.

Lisa stared at the wide cart hesitantly for a moment until Jackson irritably kicked her ankles. She stumbled inside. "Don't tell me you're a fucking claustrophobe, too."

"Gee, I half expected you to tell me that it wouldn't bite," Lisa snapped, then softened her voice to a near whisper. "I just don't feel comfortable stepping into a moving box with a man who tried to kill me two hours ago." Jackson snorted and she scuttled to the opposite side of the elevator car, leaning on the wall. Or mirror, rather.

She'd always hated elevators, or even escalators. That uncontrollable feeling of being raised up scared the wits out of her. And this was even worse, the walls were covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. Not even the circus kind, the acute kind that pointed out your every detail. Lisa cringed as she took in her complexion. She'd never cared much about external images, but this was plain scary. Her hair rose in tangled knots behind her ears and her face was covered with bruises, scratches, and grime. Her clothes were wrinkled, torn, and dirty, and like Jackson had pointed out, she was barefoot. Her feet were covered in long, narrow cuts from the glass back at her dad's house. She sighed. She felt no pain whatsoever, just a bubbling dread and anticipation in her throat and an overall aching. Not like a "wow, I just got kidnapped by an assassin and am hurt all over my FUCKING BODY!" but a feeling similar to running a marathon.

She watched as Jackson pressed a button for the fifteen floor. It was the highest floor, which surprised her because the building hadn't seemed that high on the outside.

Once they started moving, Jackson pulled out his phone and punched in the number two on speeddial.

After a pause, he said, "Its me."

Lisa found herself paying very rapt attention to his phone call, though she wasn't sure why. _In case it has to do with me_, her brain told her matter-of-factly, although her heart told her that the true reason was a festering from a childlike need to eavesdrop.

_Ding._ They were on the tenth floor.

Her mind began whirring and she subconsciously tuned Jackson out. _If I can get out of here before he does, and grab his keys, I have a chance. There must be stairs somewhere in here; I'll take them and steal his car. It could work. Catch him off guard. It has to work. Otherwise, I'll be stuck on top of this huge building until God knows when._

Fourteenth floor. Lisa braced herself.

"...either dispose of the bodies, or b, get the bitch home and get back here." Lisa cringed, not wanting to even think of who or what he might be talking about.

_Ding._ The doors slid open and in a flash Lisa moved. _Flash...ahah...he'll save everyone of us!_ Lisa's mind flashed at an inopportune time with the lyrics and she grabbed Jackson's phone which slid easily from his jacket pocket.

Like in a dream, she saw rather than heard Jackson grunt and run after her, pulling something from his pocket and aiming it at her.

_A gun. This is it. He's grown sick of this game, and this is it. My end. I'm dead. _

Instead she felt a charge zap through her body and she fell, convulsing and shuddering as if electrocuted. _Is this what a bullet feels like? A bolt of lightning?_

She screamed in agony and waited for blood as she heard Jackson speak distantly into the phone. "...call you back..."

_I'm dead._

"You're not dead, Leese," Jackson sighed, stooping and lifting her from the floor. Lisa realized that she must have verbalized that last thought and felt stupid as she focused back into reality. _Let me go! Put me down! _But she was too weak to fight him.

"What did you do?" she moaned, trying to move. Her whole body felt like stinging lead.

"Taser," he said simply. "Feeling like an idiot yet?"

She groaned in response and began to fade back into sweet unconsciousness as he effortlessly carried her down the hall. The last thing she remembered was a warm bed, the dimming of a halogen lamp and then the soft words, "Sweet dreams, Leese," as she relented to the inky blackness.

**A/N-So there's that chapter. :) Pay attention to some of the dialogue up there, my lovely readers, because it will come back coughtohauntyoucough in the next chapter. I made the grueling decision to incorporate two more character plots into the story, because they really help out the Lisa/Jackson storylines. So anyway. Please review and you'll get a really big lollipop with Mickey Mouse on it. :)**


	4. Logically uncertain

**A/N-So here are those two new characters I promised you! Enjoy, and please pm me with any suggestions. :) There's always room for improvement. **

Rachel Redford was emo. She was snobby. She thought she was too good for everybody else. She was shy. A brain.

All of the above were accusations the nearly sixteen-year old high school sophomore faced daily. She'd heard them spoken verbally in whispers as she passed, but aside from that she also read them easily on her classmates' unmoving faces. Rachel was good at interpreting people, understanding how their minds worked. And manipulating. Her teachers said on report cards that she was very persuasive and well-spoken when she rarely opened her mouth. The operative word in that sentence being 'rarely'. Rachel wasn't necessarily shy. She just didn't trust people or feel safe talking to them.

Paranoid. Her parents had made the snappish label to fit her bill several years ago, and the criticism had stuck in her brain like old chewing gum ever since. Maybe she was paranoid. It had been the only thing on her mind lately, this word, because she truly believed that she was finally going mad with her nervousness.

The sixth sense of knowing when you're being watched or followed was with her constantly now, it seemed. She couldn't count the number of times that she thought she'd heard soft footfalls or felt a warmth in the room and turned around to see...nobody.

Ghosts, maybe. She'd never really been scared of haunts and tried to use the supernatural theory to mask her fear. But in all truth, she did not really believe in them and still...why could she feel this almost everywhere, not just at home?

Surely this wasn't natural. Rachel summoned all of her logic- and, truth be told, she had plenty, along with a secure standing as official 'smart kid' of her class-to make sense of it, poring over library books preaching about the effects of anxiety and hypertension. Neither condition seemed to fit her. She didn't experience any other jittery symptoms and so she tried to ignore this blistering feeling inside of her.

She certainly didn't let it interfere with her life, not that she'd had much of one to begin with. She didn't alter her routine of school, bus, homework, walk, reading, writing, music, practice, shower, bed. She was content with her pathetic, nearly solitary life. After all, the only person she needed or trusted was herself, so why bother making friends? She'd just run out of things to say and agonize later that they were plotting to hurt her and/or said bad things about her behind her back.

So it was that fateful Friday afternoon. She was relieved that it was the start of the holiday break, because now she wouldn't have to deal with the always annoying _people._ She could never understand why ninety-nine percent of them were so damn _stupid._ Rachel planned to spend the entire vacation at home.

Rachel walked in off the bus with her little brother Chris and fixed him a snack. He was eleven, by far old enough to do it himself, but Rachel enjoyed doing the small things for him. He was probably one of the few people spare her parents that she loved and honestly trusted.

When she was done, she walked to her room and pulled on a thick woolen peacoat over her soft green turtleneck sweater and jeans. Then she grabbed a hat and scarf and, locking the door behind her, stepped back outside into the frigid cold.

It was beginning to snow, but Rachel didn't care. She wouldn't miss her daily walk in the woods behind her house for a tsunami. The forest was the only place in which she felt at peace, calm, truly alone. It was quiet there, not only physically but also in her mind. Her brain seemed to clear itself of the thoughts that she constantly had bouncing around. Her uncle Frederick always said that the human brain was like a gigantic washing machine set on spin cycle 24/7, thoughts bleeding into one another like the dye from fabrics. Rachel admired him. He always was smart, which was probably why citizens had voted him state governor. Another contributing factor was probably his devout, sincere compassion for all humans.

Rachel inhaled deeply the cool, crisp air and smiled as she glanced back at the quaint box-shaped house in the distance. Chris was always fine on his own while she walked and he was so used to her habits by now that he didn't even question where she was going.

Her feet were silent on the frozen ground, leaving a light trail from her boots that was easily and rapidly covered by a fresh dusting of crystallized flakes.

She hummed a little song as she strolled into the thicker woods. The hum turned into light singing of lyrics after the first verse, completely in tune.

_In tune. In tune with life. In tune with everything._ _That's me. And nobody will ever hurt me._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alec Rocher was a cold, hardened profesional. When he needed to be. At the young age of twenty-one, he was already one of the best in the business. He was Rippner's pride and joy, and Jackson had even admitted that if anyone were to take over his managarial position, he hoped it to be Alec.

He had morals, sure. But morals and business were two different things entirely and never to be mixed. It wasn't that Alec enjoyed killing, it was simply a means to an end. And as Machiavelli had said, the end always justified the means.

He did honestly enjoy the probing, the manipulation, the mind games, the part of jobs where he got to delve into people's undisturbed minds and pick around, meddling with their emotions and hopefully breaking them down into even less than little balls of shriveling weakness. He liked not being at risk for that weakness factor. No, he was too strong.

This job was no different. He usually never had to lie, never _did_ lie, as Jackson hated it wholeheartedly and banned it in most practices. But this time it was permitted. It wouldn't work otherwise.

He shivered in his flimsy sports jacket and huddled against a tree. Alec was thoroughly unaccustomed to surroundings like these, a native of Orlando, Florida. It was _so_ damn cold, and now it had to fucking _snow._ Fantastic.

His universal cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it without hesitation, realizing that in an area with no cell service for miles, the unusual noise would be picked up quickly.

"Rocher."

"Its me."

Alec nodded at Rippner's familiar voice. He liked to consider Jackson a very good acquaintance, if not a downright friend. He still wasn't sure if the relationship he and Rippner shared could be called coworking or merely coexisting. "What's going on?"

"I did my job, you do yours?"

"Not yet. Should be soon, though. Let me get this straight, though: we're supposed to stay in state until this is over?"

"Correct. Unless she gives you too much trouble and you need a threatening point. So after, you can either dispose of the bodies and hightail your ass out of there, or get the bitch home and get back here."

"Got it," Alec groaned. "Its so fucking cold up here, you wouldn't believe it. Jack Frost thought, 'hey, fuck nipping, let's go for full on chomping.'"

"Well, you need to go to Albany anyway, to carry out the job. It's a little farther south, at least."

"Yeah." Alec paused as he heard a female scream in the background. Laughing, he asked, "Who was that?"

There was a long, angry pause and then finally Rippner's voice and some muffled thuds. "We'll have to call you back, I'm afraid."

"Okay, see you la-" Click. Alec smiled, wondering exactly who the 'we' was. Before it had just been 'I.'

Alec repocketed his phone and peered out onto the trail, concealing himself behind the bushes. It was almost time. He could hear her walking.

She was singing. In the ten weeks of watching her, of course, he'd heard it before, but every time she did, it pulled on something in him. He wasn't sure what, but he did know that he treasured the brief moments when she would let the angelic voice pour out of her cherry lips.

Alec couldn't help but watch her face move as she smiled. She hardly ever did, but when she did, her whole face lit up, her olive skin to her chocolate eyes.

He felt like a bit of a cradle-robber as he thought this. She was fifteen, well, nearly sixteen, and he was twenty-one. Illegal, for sure. But she was a _mature_ fifteen.

He hoped he'd get his moment with her before this was over, mostly to satisfy his masculine curiosity. He knew his feelings for the girl extended little beyond lust and also knew he'd feel no remorse if he had to kill her. _Just another job._

As she rounded the bend, he stood and grinned. It was time to go. And she'd be coming with him this time.


	5. with a dash of violence

**A/N-Sorry about that double posting a chapter back. I meant to go back and delete it after I'd accidentally done it, but then my computer froze and I shut it down, ultimately forgetting my initial goal. :) So thanks to all you amazing reviewers and here's the next chapter.**

Rachel's voice faded as a loud twig snap behind her alerted her to a presence. She spun around, ears perking up and heart racing to see...a bird. A pheasant, to be exact. Her father used to hunt them. _I hated when he did that._ Sighing and nearly laughing at her paranoia, she turned back around to keep on walking. And promptly screamed.

"Be quiet and you won't get hurt," a thick, husky voice ordered. Rachel tried to run as a wide pair of hands encircled her waist, pulling her against this stranger's body. Now she wasn't facing him, but she'd got a decent glimpse when she'd turned around and bumped into his chest.

He was tall and thin, with a thick shock of blonde hair that flopped into his face, partially covering one of his two piercing green eyes that were set back in an angled, pale face. The part that terrified her the most was nearly tied with his creepy eyes, but beat them by a hair. He had a long, angry red scar that trailed from his forehead to his left eye, then skittered off down the side of his chin. It went down to his neck but was partially hidden by a thick black turtleneck.

She'd been ordered not to scream, but even if she could she wouldn't have been able to, the fear was so constricted in her throat. Her mind flooded with nightly news images of raped and abducted, then murdered teenage girls, and she thought back briefly to what she had ever done to deserve this.

_What the hell is going on here?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alec's hands were wrapped tightly enough around her body that he could feel her diaphragm rise and fall with inevitably constricted sobs. He had a few choice weapons stashed in his coat pockets and on his beltloop, but he hoped not to have to use them. _Don't think I'll need to. _

"Who are you?" she whispered, drawing in a huge, rickety breath. _Don't exert yourself, sweetheart._ "What do you want?"

"Now, princess, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," he muttered in her ear. He felt her cringe and then stiffen as his breath blew off her small hoop earrings.

"Don't call me 'princess,'" she snapped. Her tone shocked him. _Maybe you have more fight in you than I'd thought._

"I don't believe you're in the position to be making demands..._kitten_," he sneered. _Two can play this game._ "Let's get down to business, sh all we? I want something from you and if I don't get it, I'm sorry to say that Christopher dies."

Rachel let out a long shudder. "What did you just say? How-how do you-"

"Know your brother's name? Why, Rachel, its simple. I've been watching you for a month now. I know everything there is to know about Rachel Redford."

She tensed and Alec grinned. "Do what you want, just don't hurt him." As if an afterthought, she added a quiet, "Please." _Parents do quite the hackjob in teaching manners today, don't they?_

"What if I told you that what I wanted was...you?" Alec annunciated this suggestively as he slid his hand down her neck, following the hem of her woolen coat down to her waist.

She didn't cry, but he sensed a break soon. "Just-just leave him alone."

He laughed. "Its okay, Rach. You're not my type, but I find it comforting that you'll so easily put out. Anyway, I still need you, but not in that way."

He felt a bit of her tension melt away. "What are you saying?"

"For now, all you need to do is come with me. I'll explain it once we're out of here."

"Are you going to kill me?" she hissed, sucking in breath through clenched teeth. "Because if you are, do it now and get it over with."

_Look at our society. Because of CSI, every girl thinks each man who happens to kidnap her is a murderer or rapist. Jesus Christ. I'm no fucking martyr, but why do I have to be some bad guy?_ He smirked._ This will be easy. She has so little fight left in her now, the suicidal whore._

"I don't want to kill you. I need you. But I'll explain it later. Don't worry, when our business is done, you can go home and I'll leave you alone forever."

"Why should I believe you?"

_Damn, this was getting tiresome. _

He sighed. "First of all, I don't lie. Its immoral. Second of all, you can probably feel it on your back? That hard thing-s'cuse me-hard _metallic_ thing, is a gun. I won't go into specifics, as I know you've never laid a finger on one in your life so you couldn't care less. Its in my jacket. If you don't believe me, I'd be happy to demonstrate its uses."

"You said you wouldn't kill me," she whispered.

"I wouldn't have to. There are plenty of ways of excruciatingly injuring a person without actually killing them. Your knees would be first, I think. Ever been shot in the knee? No? Hurts like hell and nine out of ten times you don't get movement back. Then I'd move on to your ankles, perhaps, your feet, hands, whatever. Makes no difference to me, all I need is you alive. And guess what? No one would even investigate the sound because, as you can see, its pheasant season. So, shall we begin?" he reached for his pistol.

"No," she interjected quickly. _So she is human._ "I believe you."

"We have an accord, then?"

He heard her pause, and then speak quietly, flatly, "Yes. I just have one more question."

He sighed and began to relinquish his vice grip. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to know if you'd ever had your knees hurt." With that, she stretched and kicked him swiftly in his left kneecap. He crumpled to the ground and cursed his reflexes. She scrambled away, running about four feet before scooping up a handful of snow, dirt, and ice from the ground. As he rose she unexpectedly hurled it at him.

_Bitch!_ The disgusting mess hit his eyes with perfect precision and before he could blink it was inside. He hollered in pain, blinded temporarily.

_I'll kill her. I'll wring her fucking neck when I get ahold of her._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rachel ran with shocking speed for someone who avoided physical exercise as a rule.

_He can't catch me. God, don't let him. I'll die._

She heard him stumble to his feet as his eyes obviously watered themselves clean and urged her legs to move faster. Her feet felt like lead as she stumbled over the wet snow that clung to her boots and only made them heavier.

She made the cliched mistake of glancing briefly behind her and saw him already rising and closing the gap between them.

"Help me, somebody, please!" she screamed desperately. _Please, Chris, turn down the tv so you can hear me!_

The man was less than two feet away as Rachel's chest tightened. Her hopes were dashed half a yard from the house as he tackled her to the ground.

Rachel's first concerns were her ribs as he tumbled atop her. Her next was her wrist, which landed horribly between her body and the stiff ground. She heard it snap as her weight pressed down on the fragile area.

"Get off!" she screamed at him.

His eyes were bright red from the natural mixture she'd hurled at him. They flashed with fury, and watered with pain. He withdrew a long knife from his beltloop while still managing to keep her legs pinned to the ground with his knees. She fought with her arms until he slid the thin, glinting blade against her jugular. Rachel was no doctor, but she knew that if either of them moved wrong in the slightest, she was dead.

Her arms fell limp at her sides as he wheezed, "You have five seconds...to tell me what the _hell_ you were doing back there."

"I...I was trying to save my life," she whispered matter-of-factly.

"No," he snapped, snatching up her collar and pulling her up so that her face was inches from his. The scar seemed to pop out, nearly touching her face and she made a small noise and tried to twist her head away. He gripped her chin. "What you were doing was risking your brother's life, not to mention your own. I told you, I've been watching you and, while I'll admit that your life is pathetic, I didn't peg you as suicidal."

She tried to pull her face away but he just scowled and threw her back to the ground, her head knocking hard against a thick layer of ice.

The man gripped her throat and squeezed tightly. Rachel used her reserved oxygen for a moment until she was completely drained of breath. "I can't-I can't...can't breathe..."

"Does this make things easier for you, Rach?" he asked softly, his eyes playfully dancing with mirth now. "Does this break it down simpler? Can you understand now?"

She pulled tightly at his hands as her head began spinning.

"Answer me."

She couldn't, her face muscles resetricting as she tried to pull out of his grasp.

"ANSWER ME."

She managed to bob her head a little, hoping it would convince him. _Just please stop, let me go...I want to go home..._

He let her go and Rachel slumped to the ground, pressing her cheek to the ice as she sucked in frantic breath.

"Now lets get one thing straight," he hissed seriously. "I'm the one with the power to alter you and your brother's lives. Me. Not you. So stop trying. You don't come with me, I kill you. Both of you. Easy as that."

She shut her eyes and didn't face him.

"Now," he stood, brushing his hands against his jeans. "We are going to take a little walk to my car. You are going to get in without protestation and we are going to take a drive. When we get to our destination, you'll receive further instruction. Understood?"

Rachel nodded bitterly and stood weakly on her aching legs. The man took her arm and she whimpered as pain shot up to her elbow. He frowned a bit sarcastically and grabbed the other one. They began a brisk walk back into the woods.

_Sleep...I need to sleep...I'm screwed. What in the world am I going to do?_


	6. Sing a song of absolution

Lisa awoke feeling an odd version of calm. Slightly dizzy, she pulled herself out of tangled

sheets and stumbled zombie-like from the warm bed.

The cool air conditioning hit her skin like ice as memories from the last day (or night? She

couldn't remember) flooded back into her brain. She clutched her forehead and sobbed a little as the painful thoughts scrubbed at her emotions. _Grandma died...airport...cancellation...Tex _

_Mex...Jack...phone call...4080...pen...shoe...gun...no...electricity...white..._

Recalling the sterile white environment of where she'd drifted off, she forced her eyes open, curious to see if this was still white. If she was, at least she'd have the chance of being in heaven. _I just wish I had died and gone to sleep forever. Maybe I have._ A blur of soft orange and brown hues hit her slightly dilated pupils and slightly blinded her. _Damn it. _She scrubbed at her itchy eyes, adjusted her clothes (which were still in the same condition as she remembered them, thankfully), and pulled open the first door she saw, unwilling to remain in this unfamiliar dwelling. _If I could find I bathroom...gee, that would be swell. Ugh. How is it possible to feel so nauseated even though I haven't eaten in at least seven hours?_

She entered a hallway in a pale shade of lilac, and from there discovered a bright blue, fairly

modernized kitchen. The image of a twelve-inch Ka-Bar popped into her head and she suddenly lost

her nausea and grew enraged. _I need to find a weapon. Jackson must be waiting somewhere here to kill me._

Knife. She tugged fiercely at a drawer before realizing with bitter irony that it was locked.

She then turned to the cupboards and pulled. They too were tightly fastened, but seemed looser. She

kept pulling on the handle, feeling it budge little by little.

When it flew open, the force she had exerted caused her to fly back to the floor. Feeling a bit

stupid, she slid in her sleek skirt for a few feet before her legs kicked up and she slowly felt gravity

press her to the tile.

"You accomplished a hell of a lot there," a raspy voice said quietly in the doorway,

accompanied by a deep chuckle.

Lisa picked herself up and spun around to see Jackson leaning on the island countertop, a

boyish smirk spread over his lips. Lisa scowled indignantly at him. "Shut up."

"Ooh, good one." Jackson rolled his eyes and strode broadly to the cupboard, gesturing grandly at its contents. "Come on, Leese, come claim your prize!"

Lisa squinted before realizing that it was holding only a few scented candles and some

maroon cloth napkins. She blushed furiously.

"I suppose there's no point in asking you what you were looking for," Jackson hissed sardonically, suddenly angry as he walked briskly towards her. Before she could move, he had her up against the wall.

"That was stupid," he whispered into her nose. "Too stupid."

"You're stupid," she snapped, feeling childish. _Sticks and stones..._she could picture her father telling her with a shrug.

"One to talk," his lip curled into a bitter smirk. "What are you planning to do now, Leese? Beat me with the fruit bowl?"

She slapped him. He slapped her back. "Fuck you," she hissed. "Let me go!"

"Little chance. I guess that taser had more effect on you than I thought. Remember our good friend Keefe? He's still alive, Leese. At the moment, so is your father, but if you keep dallying that fact will rapidly change."

"I'm not killing Keefe!"

"Then sing a song of absolution, Leese, cause it doesn't work to your advantage. By all means, if you've got some hostile feelings worked up towards your dad, make that choice, but if you'd like him to remain with his organs inside of his body, I'd shut that pretty little mouth and listen."

Lisa fell into a seething silence. "Now," Jackson proceeded smugly, letting her go. "At the moment, Keefe is in a bit of a security buzz. The FBI and all those pesky little governmental

investigation people are busy figuring out exactly what happened. Don't worry, I'm sure that your little friend back at the Lux will probably sell you off as the hero of the day, but since you're missing things will be a bit shadowy. Hell, you might even be lumped in the terrorist category with me and blamed for the whole ordeal."

"Why would they believe that?" Lisa snapped, cutting her eyes at him. Jackson leaned back on the refrigerator and tapped his chin mirthfully.

"Well, hmm, Leese, I don't know," he mused. "Maybe because you were the one who called the hotel to have Keefe's room switched anyway? How else would you know about the bomb? Police could very well assume that you had some very buried feelings about Keefe deep inside, I don't know, you know how customers can be, and finally decided to off him. However, at the last minute, you got cold feet and frantically called dear Cynth back to save him. Now, feeling a bit guilty, you're in hiding. How does that sound for logical?"

"If Keefe thinks I tried to kill him, then, how the hell am I going to finish the job?" Lisa yelled, feeling sick again.

Jackson paused, gazing intently, coldly into her eyes. He sighed and shook his head, then

pulled open the refrigerator. "Scotch, Leese? You'll need it."

"Never been a scotch fan," she replied sarcastically. "Get to the point."

"No, you definitely need a drink," he decided with a nod after contemplating her for a moment. He pulled the bottle from the fridge and placed it on the counter. With a second thought, he

also retrieved a bottle of Pinot Noir and waved it at her. "More to your taste?" Lisa nodded

sardonically.

He handed her a full glass and poured himself some scotch. After a long gulp, he spoke. "The job doesn't actually require you."

The drink sloshed in Lisa's hands. "So then let me go!"

"I can't do that."

"Why the fuck not?"

Jackson took another drink and smirked slightly at her. "You keep forgetting that second

part of our little discussion back in the car. I want to steal you. Talk about your selective hearing."

Lisa poured about half of her drink into her mouth, wishing to wash away what she was

hearing. "No! This doesn't even make sense!"

"Nope."

"Are you even going to kill Keefe?"

"Why, do you want me to?" he laughed, but at her glare stopped short. "Yes. But you aren't involved. You would need to stay here even if I hated you because otherwise, an outside source

would be pinpointed as the murderer. What sense does it make if Keefe dies in Georgia when his

killer is three hundred miles away, sitting comfortably at home watching the Lifetime Channel For

Women?"

"So you're framing me," Lisa replied with her jaw tensing a bit. "You can't! My dad! He saw everything!"

"No, Lisa, not everything," Jackson smirked. "He saw me attacking you, did he know if it was provoked? I doubt it. Even if he did, he's not in the position to go whining to the police, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a bit of an ironic situation here, Leese," Jackson chuckled, then his voice grew cold. "See, if your dad doesn't keep his mouth shut, then you die."

"I thought you weren't going to kill me."

"I'm not. But he doesn't know that."

"So you're basically paying him off with lies so you can frame me."

"Exactly," Jackson grinned and snapped his fingers. "Now you've got it. Somewhat. It shouldn't matter, because you'll be here the rest of your life anyway. You go anywhere, its with me. You're just starting over. If you do what's asked and don't piss me off too much, maybe you'll even get a new job. With the company, of course."

"I don't want that!" she screamed.

"Scream all you want, Leese, I don't care what you want. You haven't realized that by

now?" Jackson snorted and finished his scotch. The ice clanged in his empty cup as he shook it. "Drink up, sweets, cause otherwise you're not going to be able to deal."

"I'll get away," she threatened. "I'll get away and-"

"And what?" he chuckled. "Go whine to the police about your mysterious kidnapper who also murdered Keefe? What are you going to tell them, Leese? You're the criminal in this situation. You made the call, shot Keefe at his cushy hotel in Georgia."

_He's right. If I escape, I'm still doomed to a life in prison_. Lisa screamed and slammed her glass to the floor. It shattered, the shards skittering over the liquid and the tiled floor. "I hate you!"she yelled and stomped back to her "bedroom".

Jackson just laughed after her and as she slammed the voice she heard his chuckled reply in

the kitchen as he stooped to clean up her mess. "I hate you too, Lisa."


	7. or simply shut up

Alec coughed as they approached his beat-up Camarro about half a mile back into the woods from where he'd apprehended Rachel. Checking his watch, he swore quietly. Five-thirty. _Damn._ She'd put him behind half an hour. He smirked and gestured grandly at the snow-dusted car and Rachel hesitantly glanced at it. He sighed and pulled open the door.

She shook and bit uncertainly down on her lower lip. Alec rolled his eyes irritably and unceremoniously shoved her in. With a quiet cry, she stumbled into the seat, catching herself before her head caught the low ceiling.

She was cold. Alec climbed in on his side and noted her quivering lips and paling face. Perhaps she was scared, or in shock. He coughed again and decided to find out himself.

"You scared, in shock, or just cold?"

She stiffened, which was a positive sign that if she was in shock, it definitely wasn't as serious as he'd originally thought. "Let's see," she snapped. "I just got kidnapped by a knife-wielding maniac who broke my arm, and, on top of that injury, also managed to rip my coat almost completely in half, so I'd say it's a combination of the three."

Alec blinked as they drove roughly on the wide trail and then pulled onto the highway. "Wow. Don't tell me I kidnapped the wrong girl." _When did she become so outspoken?_

She cut her eyes at him. "For my sake and yours, I hope you did."

"Was that a threat?"

She didn't answer for a moment after his jab, but after a long, labored silence she finally spoke in a low, weighted voice. "Listen. I don't know what you want with me, but please, whatever it is, just tell me or...get it over with. I don't know what exactly I did to deserve this."

Alec sighed and clicked on cruise control. He glanced at her. "I'll tell you, but unless you feel like dying prematurely in a car crash, you better not hit me."

Rachel sucked her breath through her teeth and hissed at him, "So, you _do_ plan to kill me."

"I never said that," Alec snapped. "_Prematurely_. That could mean any time before you should. Which is at a ripe old age of ninety-seven. If you do what I say, you have a fine chance of doing so. Now, do you want to hear this or not?"

Rachel nodded and chewed her lip.

"My business with you in actuality has nothing to do with you. It has to do with your uncle."

"My-"

"Frederick Nolan."

"The governor?" Rachel replied all too quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've met him, but he's not my unc-"

Alec abruptly reached out and struck her in the face. "Lesson one, Rach, don't lie. Ever."

Her cheek reddened from the hit and she was silent for a moment. "What do you want from me?"

"Its easy, sweetheart," Alec told her mockingly. "You just be a good little girl and stay with me for a while."

"I don't see what that has to do with my uncle."

"You don't need to. Too much knowledge is dangerous."

"I think I have a right to know, don't you?" she snapped angrily. He sighed. _And this is the reason why I'll never get married. Why do women have to be so goddamn nosy?_

"Bait, Rachel. You're bait."

"What do you even want from him? Who are you? What do you have against him?"

Alec swerved the car to the side of the road and grabbed Rachel's collar, pushing her into the back of the car. She screamed and shoved at him, but of course at one hundred and eighty two muscled pounds, he had the upper hand. With one hand on her neck and the other holding her hands together, he spoke close to her face.

"Listen to me, Rachel, because I'm not going to say it again. Quit with the fucking interviews. You're _bait_. My name is Alec Rocher, I work for a company that specializes in assassinations. Your uncle is my target, and you are what will bring him to us. Its nothing personal, just a job. If either of you fail to comply, you _will_ die. If you somehow manage to escape, Chris dies. I'm not saying it again, so this better be penetrating that thick skull of yours."

She didn't speak and he squeezed her chin. "You know, Rach, I'm surprised by you. I've been watching you for months and although you're tough, I expected you to be crying or fainting by this point. Every other person I've ever kidnapped, males and adults included, was either bawling or catatonic by now, and although it kills me to admit it, you're a hell of a lot smarter than all of them. What gives?"

She was shaking like crazy but managed to force out an answer. "I'm not going to give you the satisfaction."

For some reason, her defiance angered him. _I want the satisfaction. _His anger turned to a furious passion and he touched her cheek. Smiling, he whispered, "Don't worry, beautiful Rachel. I'll have you broken by high noon tomorrow. I can assure you of that."


	8. Why bother looking for help

Chris yawned in boredom as a commercial flashed across the television in the darkened living room. As he stretched out like a cat onto the long orange sofa, he wondered vaguely where his sister was. She usually was only gone about twenty minutes on her compulsively routinely daily walk, and he estimated that she'd been out for over an hour.

_She probably got caught up with nature, or something,_ Chris shrugged. _She's never been one for hugging trees, but hey, its Rachel. She develops a new skill every day._

Chris couldn't help but be a little bit jealous of his older sister. She just seemed so _perfect_. She'd obviously gotten the good looks of the family, the long, wavy brown hair, the deep chocolate eyes, the perfect skin. The worst part of it was that she didn't even take care of herself, never exercising, using acne medication, styling her hair...nothing. He was a _guy_ and took more self-maintenance than her. He attributed that to the shell that she'd encased herself in for the past two years. She used to wear contact lenses and run every day, but those days were over. She hid her pretty eyes behind her dark-rimmed glasses and lined her eyes in black eyeliner. She came home and locked herself in her room with headphones on, writing. Writing, writing, writing, reading, reading, reading. Rachel had always been a brain, but now it seemed like a blanket for her emotions. Chris never saw the cheerful, outgoing side of her that used to be such a great characteristic for her. Now she was skittish, quiet, rarely peering out from the curtain of dark hair that fell over her eyes. Chris felt a little bit cheated. She was beautiful, while he battled with the fat that seemed to just stick to his bones no matter how many sports he tried out for, the thick caustic acne that riddled his skin, braces, and frizzy straight locks of mousy brown hair. She had the good looks and didn't flaunt them, well, he was certainly envious.

But now he was worried. Although he sure didn't plan on telling her, he knew that much. Rachel _hated_ when people worried about her, especially recently. She'd made it clear that the only person that she needed was herself, and that she wanted people to leave her alone. He knew how seclusive she could be, how she hated socializing. He sighed. He couldn't deny it. He'd been worried about her for years.

_Especially since..._ Chris swallowed hard, shocked at the sudden emotion that caused a lump in his throat. _Rach said that she didn't want to think or talk about that, so I won't either. She knows best. She always does._

As he became immersed again in Andy Milonakis, Rachel's small Scottish terrier, Atticus, came barreling up the stairs. She'd named him after her favorite character from her favorite book.

Atticus clawed at Chris's jeans, yapping loudly. "What, Atty?" Chris sighed irritably, not looking down at the old pooch.

Atticus whined and gently bit the eleven-year-old's ankles. Chris sighed and muted the tv, standing.

_Why is it necessary for you to show me every single rabbit or...pheasant that you catch? You shouldn't be in the first place. Rachel hates that._

Chris followed Atticus downstairs to Rachel's room. Her television had been left on, quietly playing the news. _Because she watches nothing else. I've never heard her use the word 'cliched garbage' more than when she describes typical viewing material._ Chris moaned and turned it off. _Happy, Atticus? _But the dog kept barking. Chris looked around at her room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Pristinely organized, as usual. No dead, disemboweled small animals courtesy of Atticus Redford on the floor.

Atticus darted to the door, whining to be let out. Chris did os, but as he turned to head back upstairs, he heard the animal scratching on the door to be let back in.

"You stupid dog!" Chris blurted as he let Atticus back inside. Once again, Atticus demanded to be let out.

_You idiotic little dog. You catch something outside? Fine. I'll humor you, if only you'll shut up._

Chris pulled on his soccer sweatshirt and some sneakers, and trudged through the light snow to follow Rachel's dog. Atticus stopped about half a yard from the house at a particularly pressed-down section of snow. Chris crouched down with his hands on his knees, scanning the area for a dead rodent or bird.

"What, Atty?" Chris sighed as the dog began running in psychotic circles. "What's your problem?"

Chris's eyes caught on a discolored patch of snow and he awkwardly hopped over to survey it.

_Is that...?_ Chris's stomach formed a pit as like a weight the shocking realization hit him of what he was seeing. _Blood._ On the ground. Not a lot, mind, but enough to make him panic. And no feathers or fur indicating that Atticus had killed something.

The next part was what really made his nerves go haywire. A strip of Rachel's favorite coat was lying in the snow. _God, no! Something got her! _

Chris screamed and ran to the house, dialing 911. _Rachel, please be alive._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, Chris was seating at the kitchen table with a cup of lukewarm hot cocoa while his parents paced the kitchen. Officers had sanctioned off the lawn and part of the woods as they analyzed the blood, coat, and various footprints.

Chris and his mother had already cried profusely together. His father tried weakly to convince them that she was alright, but as darkness fell and the temperature dropped, all three became less sure of that fact.

The officers were bundled up in thick parkas and had search notices up all over the county. Bright spotlights dotted the lawn.

Detective Maddox sat at the table with Chris, flinging questions at him left and right. Occasionally, he would toss one out to his parents, one that Chris wasn't sure were relative. Such as, "Did she have any enemies?" or "Was she at all suicidal?" The last question sent his parents through the metaphorical roof.

"Of course not!" Mrs. Redford hollered. "Rachel was incredibly religious! She would never..."

"I meant no offense," the kindly detective said gently, holding up a hand. "I'm just as clueless as to what has happened to your daughter as you are."

"Well, I'm not clueless!" Chris blurted. "You guys are so dense! Why can't you just see that some animal got her?"

Nobody looked at him for a moment and there was a tense silence. Finally Mr. Redford coughed and motioned for Chris to follow him. They went into Chris's room, as officers were still searching around in Rachel's room, and sat down on the bed.

"Chris," Mr. Redford sat in a monotone. "I wasn't going to tell you, because I was protecting your feelings and I didn't want to scare you, but you're a man now and I believe that you have the right to know. But I could be wrong."

"I want to know," Chris cried. "What the heck you're talking about!"

Mr. Redford picked at a loose thread on his son's bedspread as he spoke, his voice stricken. "Son, your sister wasn't...er...an animal didn't get her."

"Well, that's good!" Chris bounced excitedly on the bed.

"Not exactly. The police found a few other clues in the area and have been corresponding with the city of Miami department."

"Miami? Why?"

Mr. Redford held up a hand. "Hold your questions until I'm finished, please. Did you hear about that terrorist Fresh Air thing down there?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded slowly. "Yeah. Rachel was watching a report about it on the news. But I don't see what this has to do with her."

"Well, we're not sure yet," Mr. Redford responded quickly. "It could mean nothing, but they've been comparing tips from each crime scene, and noticed two things. The large footprints made and frozen in the ground were the exact same shoe brand as the ones made outside of that house in Miami."

"So? Everybody owns Nikes or Adidas." _All except for Rachel,_ he reminded himself, marveling at modern technology.

"That's the thing. I won't go into specifics, but the imprints made from the shoes were of a very, _very_ expensive brand. A rare, foreign one. So if Rach was...kidnapped...it was by someone with money. Which doesn't make sense because typically kidnappers are looking to kill, to hold ransom, or to..." Mr. Redford trailed off, looking sick with worry.

"What was the other clue?" Chris pressed, not willing to linger on that last note.

"I don't think I should tell you," Mr. Redford shook his head and stood. "I...I can't..."

"No!" Chris grabbed his father's arm. "Please. Just tell me. You said it yourself, I'm an adult."

"Okay," Mr. Redford sighed. "The other clue was from...a knife."

"They found a knife?" Chris gasped. _Why didn't I see that?_

"No," Mr. Redford admitted. "Though I almost wish they had. It would have been a big clue and we'd know if Rachel had been hurt by it. What they found was actually a deep cut in the ground. The blade was from...ah, what was it called? Something something Ka-Bar."

"12-inch," Chris choked, remembering the news. "And that corresponds to the knife used in Miami?"

"Exact same brand," Mr. Redford sighed, running a hand over his rapidly balding head. "Now, it could mean anything, but it could mean everything."

"You're saying..."

"The kidnapper could be the one from Florida."

Chris shook his head as fresh tears formed and he leaned back against the headboard. "I don't believe it. Rachel was kidnapped by Jack the Ripper."

**A/N-So just a bit of a filler chapter with Chris, Rachel's brother, finding some evidence. Please review. :)**


	9. when you're so far gone already?

Lisa pressed her ear against the solid cedar door and strained her ears as Jackson spoke in hushed tones on the other side of the wall. He'd been on the phone for well over an hour, and, after growing bored with trying to toss her cedar chest (everything in this stupid apartment was _cedar!_) out the window, Lisa attempted to listen in on Jackson's conversation. She was sure she'd heard her name a few minutes back and didn't want to miss a word. Just in case it regarded her. Just in case.

"…New York. Right. So you met Hart at the airport?" A pause. "Good. Just remember, think like the target. And the aid. Or, well, the hostage, whatever. Don't correct me. This girl's paranoia is key. Break her down, make her stop thinking like a female and get her to become more animalistic." He laughed. "Yeah, routines are a big part." A long, drawn-out sigh. Lisa adjusted her placement against the door ever so slightly so her pearl studs wouldn't keep digging into her ears. "Because, Rocher, you've seen it. After scouting the area for months, she's proven the only one effective. I don't care if she annoys you. She's too valuable for her family to lose, believe it or not, and the oldest one. We're not going to kidnap some fucking toddler, for Christ's sake. Anyway, she's smart, humanistic, logical, generally a loner. She'll probably feel that she's got nothing to live for." Another bothersome, aggravated break in the conversation. "Yes, because she'll be here a while. Unless they flat-out say no, in which case she dies. It's perfect. Yes. I'm sure. Don't question me, I told you already. Nolan. Mhmm. Okay. Yeah, it's fine. Bye."

Lisa stood with her chest heaving in waves of panic, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. She wasn't sure if Jackson had been talking about her or not, but it sure sounded like it. Airport? Hostage? Nolan? Lisa swallowed hard the golf ball in her throat and twisted open the door.

_18F HAS A BOMB._ Jackson cocked his head as she opened the door. Lisa reeled backwards in a combination of shock and fright and caught the rail of the bed to keep herself from somersaulting onto the mattress.

"Now, I thought I was only talking to one person," he mused, shutting the door with his heel. "Not two."

"You said you weren't going to kill me," she slurred nervously, ducking as he reached for her head. Jackson's eyes softened as they contorted I confusion and his hand fell from midair. He frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he paused, biting his lip softly. "The phone call? How big is your head, Leese, ever consider that it _might not be about you_?"

Lisa felt her face redden. "Well, I…but…it was about me!" she hesitated, feeling more sheepish and less adamant in her conclusion by the minute. "Wasn't it?"

Jackson laughed, a low belly rumble that threatened to turn hysteric. "No, Lisa. It was not. I'm a manager, I organize jobs, and yours, believe it or not, is not the only one." _Yours. Like I take credit for this._

She froze. "Then you're still kidnapping someone! A woman! Who?" _I have full right to feel concern for whoever poor soul this is that will soon be in Jackson Rippner's satanic clutches._

"Ok, Leese, first and foremost, its none of your goddamned business to begin with. But since I doubt it would hurt for you to know…" he sighed. "I'm not kidnapping anybody. My…employee…is borrowing an invaluable civilian to partake in the assistance of this assignment. But she's hardly a woman yet. Girl. Well, no… 'young woman' would probably be more politically correct, mm? She's sixteen, I believe. Rachel Redford. And no, you don't know her."

"A girl?" Lisa croaked, nearly collapsing. _These people…they'll stop at nothing, will they? A girl. A young girl. A **teenaged** girl. Hardly having lived her life yet and now it'll be ruined even if she manages to live._

"No, a boy," Jackson spat sardonically, rolling his eyes. "Now quit with the questions."

Lisa glared at him, her eyes practically spontaneously combusting with bottled-up fury. _Don't hit him. Whatever you do, don't hit him. If you do, it'll only end badly. Painfully. Not just for you. MomDadDadDadDadMomMomDadMomMomDADMOM. _

She fought words eager to spill from her lips and squeezed them together. She winced, as they were peeled and chapped from lack of water. _Don't talk, either. You'll swear too much and just make an idiot out of yourself._

Lisa did the only thing that made sense at the moment and stomped into the connecting bathroom, slamming the door behind her. As she locked it, she half-expected Jackson to force it open and barge right in. Instead she heard only a low chuckle and became flustered at the thought that she'd given him humor despite her best efforts. _You Neolithic asshole. Chauvinistic bastard. I'm not some silly little girl!_ She sat on the lidded toilet seat with her head on her elbows and tried to think.

A moment later, Lisa heard the bedroom door creak open and Jackson's footsteps faded.

The heavy pressure of the last few days finally cracked open on her shoulders and she slumped over, falling to the ground as she sobbed. _ I have to get myself out of this. I can't let Jackson win, can't let him do this to me! To Keefe, to Mom, to Dad! This isn't fair! I won't let this happen. I can't let him play me like his prize chess pawn. I will escape. I will…I think I can. I can do this. I think I can…_

Lisa giggled quietly at her slight delusional thoughts. The Little Engine That Could. That was her.

"Only I don't have a caboose," she murmured softly to herself. "But I can still do this. I can beat this."

Wondering vaguely why she was suddenly feeling so light, Lisa drifted off into a dream oddly unplagued by paperback images of a tiny chugging train.

xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX

Rachel wasn't breathing well as Alec took a firm grip on her sleeved arm in the bustling Albany airport. _Get away from me. Don't touch me. You. Bastard._ She tried frantically to meet the eyes of the other people traveling and working but they all seemed to look away. _Help me, **please**. I can't let this happen! I can't let him get me on a plane, where I'll be miles above any chance of escape…confined in a little tiny claustrophobic bubble._

"Relax," he murmured. "This whole thing will all be over before you know it." _What? The airport? The flight? My tenure as a HOSTAGE?_

Tickets in hand, he led her directly to their gate. She glanced numbly at the tired-looking attendant as she processed them and gave a quick smile.

"So nice to see normal looking couples traveling together," she said with a sigh. "Couple days ago, my last Fresh Air flight was from Dallas to Miami and some insane girlfriend stabbed her guy in the throat with a ballpoint. So now I'm on ticket duty. Can't say I miss that routine." _Normal couple. Whatever. Grab the opposite of both those words and you have the exact definition of what we are._

Alec fed her a charming middle-class grin. "Hope things start going better for you," he glanced at her nametag. "Alysia. The flight industry can't afford to keep hiring wonderful young women like yourself. After all, there are only just so many perky women in the world to supply the pretzels!" _Ugh, get a room._

Alysia blushed and looked shyly at Rachel. "Don't let this one go!"

"As soon as my uncle says I can," Rachel forced an unhappy smile as Alec tugged her away.

"Watch yourself, Rachel," Alec hissed in her ear as he led her forcibly down the aisle. "You think things are bad now? I can make your life a living hell."

"You know, Alec, I have a feeling that you're bark is worse than your bite," Rachel spat back. _I'm not afraid of this bastard. He wants to brag about what he can do, try to scare me, but I know he can't._

He spun around to face her. "Try me. I'm ready when you are."

Rachel felt the eyes of a little boy nearby fixed on her. "Gee, Alec, I'm looking forward to it, but why don't you wait? Because if you're really that worried about attracting unnecessary attention to ourselves, why don't you take a leaf out of your own book and get us to our fucking seats."

Alec drew back, and she read the mild shock on his face. "Well-put. Come on." _And now…he's not angry? God, this guy is the pure Wikipedia definition of bipolar_.

Alec stepped into the aisle to let her sit on the inside and she stopped dead in her tracks, shaking her head with her arms across her chest. "I'm not sitting on the inside. I hate window seats."

"Because I'm really going to let you sit here on the outside and continue to make a scene? Get in before I change my mind about Christopher," he rolled his eyes. Rachel clenched her jaw and threw herself into the plane seat.

Movement that Rachel detected out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head and look slightly past Alec. Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall, lanky college-age boy with dark skin and spiky black hair laugh as he put his luggage above him.

_It's not him, Rachel. He's dead. _

He looked past Alec. Right into her eyes. His were brown. Just like _his_. Rachel felt a small tear form in the corner of her eye and it slid to her lip. He smiled at her.

_Stop it. He's dead. He's dead. He's going to stay dead. There's nothing you can do about it._

She quickly looked away out the window.

"Rachel," Alec snapped.

She looked up. "What?"

"Listen to me, for fuck's sake. Jesus."

She wiped quickly at her brown eyes. "What did you want?"

"Buckle up."

The boy smiled at her again. Rachel faded.

Alec sighed and irritably reached over, snapping Rachel's belt into the latch.

She pushed his hand away as it grazed her waist on its journey. "Don't touch me."

"Then listen to me for once."

"I will if you don't touch me."

He rolled his eyes as Rachel glanced over him again. Now the boy was sitting in his seat with a laptop on his table. He was typing furiously, brows knitted as he worked.

_Like the writer. The Pie. Writing the Pie in the Sky._

She couldn't help the tear that came from her eye again. This time, though, Alec noticed and looked at her.

"What's wrong now?"

She met his eyes for a brief second, then balked and quickly snapped her gaze back to the window. _Don't even look in that direction. You can look at the in-flight movie, you can look out the window, you can look at the back of your eyelids, but whatever you do, don't look to your left._

As the flight attendant disinterestedly rambled off instructions over the intercom, Rachel zoned. It was still the twenty-second of December, she realized. Late. Was her family looking for her? Were there search notices out yet?

"Rachel."

"What?"

"Turn your phone off." Alec smirked and Rachel saw in his face that he was waiting for her laugh. Silence.

"You're damn lucky they haven't put out search notices yet," she snapped.

Alec apathetically pulled out his monogrammed wallet and flipped it open to reveal his ID.

"Congratulations, you can legally buy alcohol," Rachel rolled her eyes and returned to looking out the icy glass as the plane began galloping down the runway. Alec gripped her wrist to the armrest and she turned back angrily.

"Ow, let me-"

When she saw the card he pulled out from underneath it, shocked wasn't word enough to describe her feeling at that precise moment. 'Near-comatose' would have just been a mild understatement.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, her eyes now too wide to produce tears.

Her own face was peering back up at her from that stiff card. She recognized it as a picture she'd had taken at a family party a few months ago. Next to it listed a name: Chloe Christina Rocher. Supposedly, she was a twenty-year old female from Orlando, Florida.

_He's framed this all. He won't get caught for anything. He could kill me and nobody would ever find me! _

Growing panicky, she reached for her seatbelt with one hand and began clawing nervously at Alec's grip on her other one. "Let go of me, let the _fuck go!_" she screeched. "Stop doing this to me, all of this!"

"Chloe," Alec spoke calmly, crisply, decisively. Pointedly. "Stop for a minute and calm down. Think about Christopher. Sh…its all right," Alec's hand wrapped tightly around her waist and before she could push him away he'd injected something sharp into her side.

"-sick bastard, let me…." Rachel's now-heavy eyelids began to fall together and a nauseating inky blackness veiled her eyes. As she slumped against the window she heard a seatbelt sign dinging off, the high heels of a flight attendant strolling down the aisle.

_Clack clack clackclack….CLACK. Clackclackclack. Snap. ClackclacKclaCKclACKcLACKCLACK…_

_Stop the noise!_ Every puncture on the sound realm seemed to puncture Rachel's aching skull._ Stop the fucking racket!_

It stopped. "She okay?" a whisper.

"Just fine," Alec's calm voice. His fake side. "Just a little whacked-out on allergy meds, that's all."

_I like medicine. Very light feeling. Floating. _

She giggled quietly, delusional as she drifted off. _Silly Alec. How'd you know I have allergies? Silly me. Silly Alec. Alec knows everything, silly goose._

"She'll be fine with rest. Some water might help when she wakes up, though. Or some juice, even."

"Milk, possibly?"

"Soy. She's allergic to milk."

"Of course. Just say the word." _More heels. Clack clack. I love heels. Especially when they're black. Or yellow. Or green. Or red or purple or pink or blue or gray or teal or…_

As she sunk even further into sleep, she felt a palm brush against her head, down to her shoulders. _Dan, you're finally back. Now we can go back to the Dwelling. The Dwelling. The only place I'll ever love, the only one I'll ever love. But I love you._

"Sleep tight, Rach." And she was out.

**A/N-And the tension rises! This was a _very_ long chapter, and I hoped you enjoyed it. There'll be more explanation later of 'Dan' and all the other Imaginations of Rachel. As for LJ, the next chapter will be a very…interesting one, I hope. I have it planned out. Enjoy and please review. They go 'ding' when I open them. **


	10. Stop treating me like this

"Lisa, I know you're trying to be indignant and pouty right now, but I made dinner special and I'm not forcing you into anything," Jackson yelled to her. He paused to take a breath and lovingly turned to lookat the magnificent meal he'd concocted on the table behind him. "But you should know that I have my cell phone in my hand right now set to speed-dial. To the guy outside your dad's house. I'll give you ten seconds. Ten…"

There was a loud slam, then the door to Lisa's bedroom swung open and Lisa appeared in all her flustered anger. There was a large red mark on her cheek and he wondered from what. _Nine, eight, seven, six._ Jackson's lips curled into a smile as she clenched her fists in the doorway.

She eyed him with apparent disgust for a minute or two before her mouth turned drastically downward into a scowl. "You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

"I'm a goddamn Socrates, Leese," Jackson replied, losing interest and talking back to the kitchen. Lisa followed, her feet scraping obnoxiously on the floor. Jackson growled. "Is that necessary?"

She ignored him and plopped into a chair. "Why do I have to eat with you anyway?" she complained. "I'm not hungry anyway."

Jackson rolled his eyes and tossed two paper napkins onto the unset table. Then he pulled two plates from the refrigerator. "You didn't _have_ to. You chose to."

Lisa looked like she wanted to fire a line of insults at him but bit her tongue as he set a paper plate before her. "The 'special dinner' is _peanut butter and jelly?"_

"With carrot sticks and chocolate milk to balance out," Jackson responded innocently as he sat. "And, if you're a good girl and eat all of it, there are cupcakes for dessert."

"I don't believe this," she grumbled, practically throwing herself to the floor. Jackson placed his napkin gingerly in his lap.

"I cut the crusts off, Leese, no need to get picky," Jackson fought a grin as he chewed. "Anyway, I thought you _wanted_ to be treated like a child."

"What the hell gave you that idea?"  
It came upon him again. That _dragon, _the fiery monster that burrowed deep within him and sprang out unexpectedly. He actually felt chest pain as his anger came. "The little stunt you pulled in the kitchen. How you tried to throw your cedar chest out the window-yes, Leese, I heard you. And how you eavesdropped on my conversation, lastly, and the way you so nobly stampeded into the bathroom in a tantrum. Those all seem pretty damn childish to me, you know."

"I can't _believe_ your gall!" Lisa yelled. "Dragging me all the hell way out here and then not expecting me to be upset!"

"There goes that female-driven shit, again," Jackson snapped. "Did you listen to me at all on the plane?"

"Kinda hard not to," Lisa snorted, "when I practically had a knife at my throat."

"I never did anything like that, Leese," Jackson snarled. "You know that. I never hurt you once." _I didn't **want** to hurt you. I didn't hurt you like I wanted to. You were lucky. _

"Sure," Lisa quieted. "The headbutting and choking was all in good fun, right?"

Jackson fell silent and shoved his sandwich into his mouth. _What to say? She's right. You **know**__she's right. Tell her she's right_. "You don't know the first thing about 'fun', Leese," he slurred through gluey lips.

Lisa stared at him for a minute, like a toddler with confused awe at a bird in the clouds, before glowering and slamming her fist on the table. He watched her as she sat for a moment, trembling, and then gingerly picked up her sandwich and took a small bite.

"Lisa." _If we can't have a normal conversation during dinner, we'll knock it up a level and talk about the necessary._

She looked up and nodded coldly at him. "What?"

"I'll need you to stay here alone tomorrow. Can I trust you?"

"I don't know, Jack, you seem to be a pretty good judge of that," she snapped. Jackson bristled.

"If you can't handle it, fine, but unless you feel like going without clean clothes and toothpaste for two weeks, I'd quit it with the bitchy remarks."

Lisa shot daggers at him. "I can handle it."

"I'm glad."

She swirled a carrot idly in ranch dressing as she slouched on her fist. "What am I supposed to do while I'm stuck here anyway? Categorize your knives?"

Jackson smirked. "No. You think I'd let you that close to them?"

Lisa peered up sweetly under her lashes at him. "What happened to that trust thing we had going?"

Jackson was, for once, at loss of words. He finally choked out a reply. "It hasn't begun yet. You need to prove yourself to me."

"Screw that," Lisa said coldly. "I'm not going to bother wasting my time kissing your ass for favors."

He shrugged.

"Answer the question…._Jack_."

His lip curled distastefully at the unpleasant name and he spoke edgily. "You can help me with cleaning and things. Watch television, movies, eat, sleep, read. Eventually, again, if I can trust you, I'll let you explore the place a bit. The library, the gym."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Assassins _read_? Wow. I'd have thought that too nerdy for the brazen conquerors."

Jackson laughed. "Yes, we do. Usually more than…civilians, in fact. I have quite an extensive book collection, but I've a feeling you've read most of them."

Lisa shoved her plate away. "I'm done. Can I go back to my room now?"

"You don't want dessert?" Jackson pretended to pout. Lisa glared at him.

"I'll take a raincheck."

"Don't stay up too late, now!" he called out with a long chuckle as she stormed back to her room.

**_Oh, how I burn for you._**

xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX xX

Alec tossed his magazine into its woven webbed holder in front of him and sighed in boredom, glancing idly at the sleeping girl next to him.

Her dark hair with lighter natural auburn highlights was tossed haphazardly in front of her face, hiding her olive-colored skin and dark brown eyes. He rolled his eyes. He liked her when she was sleeping. _She doesn't talk or whine as much. _He mused at the capability of a sixteen-year old to stir anger in him that was impossible to rile with larger, older targets. Alec had no idea why to feel so intimidated by the junior student from the middle-class generic two-car family. After all, that was all she was. Middle. Mediocre. Nothing was incredibly special about her other than the way she spoke. Eloquently. And not fake-eloquently like a common socialite, but intelligently. With meaning behind her words. Every phrase she spoke had something hidden in it, she never settled for typical "yeah's" and "um's", she always had to add something more. Although she'd already proven that curse words weren't beneath her, she had a way of adding them colorfully to an already biting comment.

For some reason, that fascinated and repulsed Alec at the same time. He'd never been one for girls, taking in mind more their body than their IQ. He wasn't into long-term things, twelve hours was the max for his relationships. His need for women was primarily physical, nothing more. Rachel was nothing different, but he had to admit she had that _difference._ Weird would be the best word, he decided, but not in a bad way, though she annoyed the hell out of him with her endless supply of comments.

He felt somewhat slighted that she had something in her past that he didn't know about. He'd seen her staring past him at some guy and wondered why. Was desperate to know why. _Well, _he figured, _I'll know by the time this whole thing is over, I guess._

Alec's legs began tingling and he stretched and unbuckled. _Bathroom break, I suppose, while the fire is temporarily extinguished._ He climbed into the aisle and made his way down the humming, sleeping cabin to the lavs.

Once he locked himself in and done what he'd needed to, he contemplated his reflection. _Not too bad at all._ His straight blonde hair was tossed casually over one eye, forming a bit of fringe that gave him a preppy look. He liked that. It gave the public eye a more respectable vision of him. After all, why would an upstanding young gentleman _kidnap_ a girl? She surely must be his slightly insane sister, cousin, or girlfriend.

_Can't get better than this. Not at all._ He smirked at his reflection and tugged his sweater tighter over his shoulders, admiring his respectable chest as it bumped through the fabric. He nodded and released the hem. _I'll get back into my routine at the gym when we get home. Hell, maybe Rachel'll get into it._ Then, he nearly laughed as he realized, _Not really, on second thought. That girl is way too intellectual. She'd probably read a dictionary than use the leg press._

Alec scowled slightly. This plane was freezing. He'd have to ask the flight attendant to bring him a blanket when he got back. He'd given Rachel his sports coat back in the car to replace her shredded peacoat. She hadn't seemed all too willing to take it but he'd insisted and the coat had been discarded inside. He noticed she'd crumpled his coat into a ball on the floor as soon as they'd boarded the plane. _Figures. Doesn't appreciate anything, middle-class snob._

Alec heard a rap on the door outside. "Ok, hold on a minute!"

He flipped his hair once more and stepped out, squeezing against the door to allow room for the waiting balding gentleman past. He smiled politely and strode confidently back to his seat.

_Goddamn, not again. _Rachel was out of her seat.

A/N-Hope you liked that latest installment. Mostly a humorous little mindplay. Please review, I'll give you Alec's sports jacket. It's quite lovely, actually.


	11. because i hurt too much already

_Rachel's feet made muddy footprints in the soil outside of the stone entrance. She turned her head as His arms wrapped around her waist and she smiled as He nuzzled her bare neck in the summer sun. _

_"What do you think?" he murmured into her ear._

_"I think it's a cave," she giggled. "What's so special about it, o' great one?"_

_He took her hand and playfully tugged her inside. "Come on!"_

_Rachel grinned wryly at his devout mischievousness and followed him into the darkened space. _

_"How far back are we from the cabin, anyway?" she yawned. "I'm getting tired. And your parents wanted us back so we could have dinner and then the bonfire."_

_"Relax, Rach," He laughed at her. "We're only about a half-mile in. And it's not even five yet. Stop ruining the fun."_

_She hugged him. "Then show me what's so great! It's cold in here."_

_He led her farther back, just enough so that the sunlight was barely visible at all now. She shivered in the musty cave and clung to His t-shirt, afraid that at any moment a bat or goblin even may come attacking at her back. _

_They walked a bit farther in, and Rachel began hearing noises. "What's that?" _

_"You'll see. A little farther now."_

_Rachel sighed and began to see dim light ahead, so she quickened her pace. As they got closer, her claustrophobia grew so she raced ahead of Him and found the source._

_There was a huge opening in the stone ceiling above, where a small waterfall trickled water into a large natural lagoon. Rachel gasped in awe._

_"How did you find this place?" she murmured admiringly as He caught her shoulders._

_"My little sister showed it to me the summer before she…" He trailed off. He always got upset when he talked about the death of his sister Lily. "Anyway, I've been coming back here since I was ten, the year she died was the year she found it. When she was five. It's always been my place with her, the only place I can be alone."_

_"But you brought me," Rachel frowned. He smiled at her and kissed her head._

_"Yeah, I did," he agreed. "Because I needed to tell you something."_

_"Ok," Rachel sat on a large rock next to the lagoon and dangled her feet in the crystal foam. "Go ahead." He sat next to her, wrapping His arm around her shoulders._

_He paused and she looked at Him. For a moment they sat there in silence until he finally spoke. "I'm not quite sure how to say this, but…well…here I go. Bear with me, Rach, please."_

_She smiled. "You got it."_

_"This past year has been the most **incredible** of my life," he admitted with a sigh. "This is so clichéd, and I know you hate that, but…"_

_"Go on," she laughed. "It's fine."_

_"I've never felt this way about **anyone** before. My dad won't listen to me. He says we're too young to have a relationship that's anything deeper than puppy love, but believe me, Rach, I beg to differ. This is what the songs talk about."_

_Rachel felt a tear glistening in her eye. "What is it?"_

_"It's love, Rach. I love you."_

_"I love you-"_

BANG. The gunshot resonated throughout the cave as He fell to the ground, bleeding from his stomach. Rachel screamed and lept to her feet as They came towards her. Screamed. Scream.

Xx

Rachel awoke with a start and realized that she was sweating profusely. She was breathing heavily as she glanced wildly around. _I'm not in a cave. It was That Dream again. _She wiped back tendrils of dark hair from her forehead and realized that she was on a plane. _What the fuck am I doing on a-_ Then it came to her. Forest. Snow. Knife. Chris. Alec Rocher. Uncle Freddie.

She looked at the seat next to her and saw a vacant spot. Maybe Alec had jumped off the plane. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise. She wondered vaguely where he was but her thoughts were disrupted as an older man leaned across the aisle to speak to her.

"Ma'am, if I may be frank with you for a brief moment, I was wondering if you're all right." Rachel smiled at him. He reminded her of her grandfather from Missouri. They looked a bit alike, with their thin wisps of white hair that curled delicately around their slightly pointed ears, giving them both elfish appearances.

"I'm fine," she lied. "Just having a bit of a nightmare."

"I understand," he nodded. "Dreadful little buggers, ain't they?"

She laughed a fake little giggle and nodded before looking out her window. She wondered how long she'd been out. Three, maybe four hours? She saw lights beneath them but didn't think that meant anything. A sudden wave of nausea overcame her already uncomfortable stomach and she craned her neck, searching the seats for Alec. In a way, she wanted him back next to her in the hope that he'd probably have Tums or some other blessed medicine to help her ailing body. But then, it was _Alec._ The sadist would probably just let her suffer and then tape it for her uncle to see. _I've suffered enough. I'm going to look for help._

Rachel rose to wobbly feet as the seatbelt sign clicked on. For now, she ignored it. First priority was the bathroom.

_Shit. _A flight attendant gripped her shoulder. "Miss, I need to ask you to return to your sea-"

"No, I can't," Rachel forced out the words, not sure how her brain was managing to form words right now. She clamped a hand over her twisting stomach. "I-I'm sick, I'm going to be sick, I need the bathr-"

"There are bags in your seat, ma'am, please, for your own safety, I'm going to need to ask you to-"

"No, you don't understand!" Rachel finally cried. "I can't go back to my seat, I'm being held host-"

"Chloe," a voice rasped behind her.

_Oh, shit. I'm screwed._ Rachel gritted her teeth and didn't turn as the firm hand grasped her wrist.

"You heard the lady," he repeated calmly behind her. "Now calm down and come sit. I got you water and some Tums."

Rachel choked on a tear and she slowly turned to Alec as the plane rocked. The flight attendant, now extremely flustered by her crazed passenger, clung to the back of a chair.

Rachel's eyes held sorrow. _Please don't make me do this, Alec, _she mentally transmitted.

His face hardened and he held her firmly. "Chloe, come on now…_dear._" Rachel swallowed hard the building bile. Her head felt heavy.

She nodded limply and let Alec cart her back to her seat. She buckled in and Alec rattled the plastic cup of Tums before her face. She reached for them as another wave of queasiness rattled her esophagus. He cruelly jerked them away.

"Please!"

"I leave you alone for five minutes and you run off," he snarled, making sure to keep his voice low. "This isn't work if you don't stop abusing my trust."

"I was sick," she pleaded, then added as an afterthought, "I don't _want_ it to work!"

He dug his nails into her hand. She whimpered as a red sticky liquid dotted his palm. Her blood. "Chris does, Rach. So does your uncle. He cares about you, you care about Chris. Nice chain. This needs to work. We're all depending on it, and face it, you're the crux. Everything depends upon Rachel Redford, middle-class snob from Hicksville."

She fell silent and Alec must have grown bored because he tossed the cup at her. She eagerly swallowed them and waited for her sickness to subside.

"This isn't fair," she murmured as the plane began its descent. After a glance at Alex's Rolex, she realized it was near five in the morning. _Has that much time really passed?_ "None of this is fair."

"It's life, Rach," Alec snapped harshly. "Get used to it."

She turned angrily to look at him. "What the hell do you think you know about me? You may have stalked me but you don't know _shit_, Rocher."

"So its Rocher now?" he smirked. "I do know. I know you won't talk to anybody. You curl up into your little shell." He paused. "No one will miss you." _Thanks a lot, asshole._

"You say it as if I'm already dead," she snapped. "And I'm not afraid to talk to them, if that's what you're implying. I just don't feel like it."

"Okay, Holden Caulfield," Alec rolled his eyes. "Snap out of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed and stretched as the plane bumped down the runway. "The Catcher In The Rye. Holden Caulfield is the main character? Always says he doesn't feel like doing something?"

Rachel turned from him in disgust, slightly confused that he read classic literature. "Whatever."

"Why don't you 'feel like' talking to people?"

"None of your goddamned business." _There goes my Holden again. _

"You brought this upon yourself, Rachel. Tell me or a certain someone with the initials CR will get a beautiful surprise. Somebody break your heart? Dump you? Cheat on you? You get mugged? Shot? Raped?" He listed off the causes with no difficulty or emphasis, though he placed a little bounce on the last word. _You disgusting pig. _

"No. Now shut up."

"Get it out, Rach, it'll make you feel better." The seatbelt sign clicked off again as the plane finally rested.

_Change the subject, Rachel, or you'll have to go through this again. _"Well, Alec, whatever happened to me is probably the same reason why _you_ went into the assassination business. Correct?"

His eyes grew fuzzy for a moment, then turned blank. "No-well-I don't know. Come on."

_Well, that worked, _Rachel frowned. _But now **I'm **confused. He doesn't know? There must be something that causes a person to willingly enter that line of work. It's not like if you become a teacher because the registration lines for the college classes are the shortest. _

Alec grabbed his bag from the overhead and smirked at Rachel as he led her forcibly from the plane. "I never check baggage. Want to know why?"

"Not particularly, no."

He ignored her as they strolled through the terminal. "My friend gave me a tip a few years ago. See, if you're on a working flight and you happen to do something that might get you into a little legal trouble, for example, if you decapitate someone in the lavs, then you want to make a quick getaway."

Rachel felt sick. "So have your baggage sent to you."

"Ah, ah," he corrected. "Easily traced by security, your baggage will lead them to you and you'll get caught. Smart thinking?"

"Thanks, it'll be useful if I ever decide to kill people," Rachel rolled her eyes as he led her to a Dunkin Donuts kiosk.

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

Rachel shot him a scathing look that could have frozen hell. "Listen, are you trying to get on my nerves or does it just come naturally?"

He shrugged happily. "I've a gift, what can I say? Now pick something to eat because you haven't eaten in a while and I can't afford to have you collapse in the middle of the job."

She quickly scanned the menu with pursed lips. "A plain bagel with a chocolate raspberry coffee."

"Now, was that so hard?" Rachel crossed her arms as he ordered and handed her a bag.

"I think that would be a 'thank you' that we're looking for, Vanna," Alec informed her as they sat at a dirty table.

"Buy a vowel, Alec, you're not getting one."

He laughed and ripped open his bag, pulling out two chocolate glazed donuts and a decaf coffee.

He had his first donut down before Rachel had taken three bites of her bagel.

"Don't be shy, Rach, the bagel isn't going to asphyxiate you."

She glared at him. "I'm not hungry when I'm _upset_."

Alec didn't get the hint. "I'm very sorry. Now eat, we have to stop somewhere before we go home."

Rachel reflected on how odd this was. _I'm sitting in an airport terminal eating a bagel with a man who kidnapped me and plans to kill me if my uncle doesn't ransom. Sure. Makes sense._ "Home? You're not locking me in a cell until my uncle ransoms?"

He snorted. "No. What good would that do?"

"I don't know. But it seems like-"

"-What they do in movies. You watch too many movies, Ms. Redford. That's not the way it works for my company. We take the hostages home. Get to know them a little. Unless they're really annoying, in which case we just kill them." He finished his second donut.

"Charming."

"I know. Aren't you excited?"

"I'm pegged." _Hold on a minute, is this…banter? No. It simply can't be._

"Yeah, so, we all live in the one building. It's not bad. There's stuff to do, you know. Pretty nice place, and I live next to my boss, so-"

"That must be fun," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Well, it is, because he's my best friend," Alec admitted honestly. "And he-um-kind of…has…a girlfriend, so you'll…"

"I'm so excited to buddy-buddy with an assassin's whore," Rachel spat truthfully. _Who in their right mind would fall in love with a killer?_

Alec glared at her. "If you have to know, she's in the same predicament you are."

Rachel frowned. "She's a hostage?"

"No. Well, kind of. You might have heard of her. The one who was involved in the Lux explosion and is now being blamed for the whole thing because she disappeared. God, what's her name?"

"Lisa Reisert," Rachel answered numbly. _I don't believe this. I almost feel starstruck. Lisa Reisert? Wow. _"Why would she go with you guys?"

"Well, Jackson kind of-well-took…her…along, so he'd have…er…company, you know, and-"

Rachel threw her half-eaten bagel back down onto its foil covering. "You people are disgusting. Every last one of you. You're like…slave traders. Women are _people_, you know. You can't just kidnap one and expect her to be yours."

"You know, I'm not asking that of you."

Rachel blushed. _Boy, did that come out wrong._ "That's not what I _said_. Jackson is asking that of Lisa, though, isn't he?"

"Well, kind of, yeah, but…"

"Shut up, Alec." Rachel felt her face redden even more and she shoved her food away, trembling as she sipped at her coffee.

After a few minutes he spoke. "Are you ready?"

"Whatever." She stood and threw away her trash but held on to her coffee. _I need the caffeine._

"Where's my coat?" Alec stood and glanced around her chair.

"I don't have it."

He sighed irritably. "You lost it?"

"It's _your_ coat."

"But I gave it to you for the plane ride."

"I'm not your property, I'm not going to _wear_ your _clothes_."

Alec groaned angrily and just grabbed his bag and roughly her arm, leading them out of the airport into the bright sunshine.

"Where are we, anyway?" Rachel grumbled.

"Well, Rachel," he hissed into her face. _This man has more mood swings than Lindsay Lohan._ "Welcome to Orlando."


	12. I wish the words would stop

_Running. Her ledger flying and scuttling haphazardly on the pavement as she jumped for her car. Heavy body. On. Her. Preventing movement, trapping her, stopping her breath. Sweat. Dripping on her._

_"Let me go. Please, don't hurt me."_

_"Calm, sweet, be calm. I won't if I just get what I came for."_

_Pressure. Knife. At her throat. The sun darting off her windshield and glaring into her eyes. Zippers. Too many zippers, the metal cutting into her skin as he marked her. Marked her in more ways than one. Then it came, the fatal slash and the look up into her attacker's face-_

_ "Leese," rasping. Rasping, "Leese."_

_**No. Not you.**_

_Pulling out of her, away from her. "I'll be waiting at the airport, Leese. Waiting for that Seabreeze." _

_**No. Jackson. **_

_"It's fine, Leese. He's fine."_

_**No, he's not. **_

_"Get over it."_

_**Get over what?**_

_"Wake up."_

Xx

"Wake up," Jackson yelled through the door. "Are you decent? You better be, because I'm coming inside in five seconds. Five, four…"

Lisa pulled the blanket to her already covered chest. "I'm decent!"

Jackson entered as Lisa was still recovering from her dream. Her pulse rate was just starting to go down as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, what's the story, morning glory?"

She cut her eyes at him. "Nothing. Just had a bad dream."

He placed an awestruck hand to his chest, feigning a fluttering heart. "Was I in it? Oh, tell me I was in it, Leese!"

"Shut up. No, you were not," she lied. "What do you want?"

"To request your presence at breakfast," he nodded to her before bowing out of the room. Lisa rolled her eyes and stomped out to the kitchen in the long-sleeved pajamas she'd changed into last night.

After the ordeal at dinner, she'd gone straight to her room and glowered at the window for two hours before Jackson came in and pointed her to the closet, where there was an abundance of clothing for her to wear. She reluctantly changed, but only under the lingering threat of Jackson that if 'she couldn't change herself, he'd do it for her'. It didn't take her long to whip into some flannel pajamas after that.

The kitchen smelled like French toast this morning. And chocolate.

"Still insist on treating me like a child, Jackson?"

"No. But we're having guests and one of them is a child."

"Who?"

"That girl I was telling you about."

Lisa snorted. "How is she a child? She's sixteen. She can drive."

"Whatever. It'll be about fifteen minutes, so go wait in the living room while it cooks. There are magazines and the remote is on the end table."

Lisa nodded and trudged out to the living room. It was decent. The couch was a leathered black and spotless. She sighed and grabbed Time from the coffee table, idly flipping through it.

_**How I wish that I could feel as good as you.**_

Xx

Rachel frowned. "I don't want new clothes."

"Too bad. You're going to be with me at least a week, so pick something out. Either way, you're not wearing that for the next week. If you don't want to pick out clothes, that's fine, you'll just have to go nak-"

Rachel grabbed a sweater off the rack and shoved it into Alec's outstretched arms. "Happy?"

"A week."

Rachel sighed crankily and picked out enough clothes for a few weeks, until Alec said she could stop, and added them to the pile in the shopping cart. _He's like freaking Super Shopper Sam._ So far, along with the clothing, he'd picked out shampoo and other personal hygiene products, makeup and combs, and- the most disconcerting to Rachel-personal entertainment items such as books, magazines, and notebooks. She found that odd.

"I've never heard of a kidnapper wanting to make his hostage comfortable before," she snapped.

"Well, to say the least, you annoy me, and I don't feel like hearing you whine that you're bored. So feel blessed."

"That I'm annoying?"

"Whatever you want."

They rolled to checkout and the bill was hefty but Alec paid it nonchalantly. Rachel stared at him.

"What?"

"You must get paid a lot for killin-" he cut her off with a deadly stare and discreet nod to the cashier.

When they got the rental car loaded, Alec turned to Rachel inside. "Here's the deal. We're going to my apartment. When we get there, you're going to freshen up and change. After that, we're going to go across the way to have breakfast with Mr. Rippner. Got it?"

"Do you always call him Mr. Rippner or just when you feel like being an ass-kisser?"

Alec laughed sarcastically. "You're hilarious." He pulled out of the shopping center and drove for about six miles back in a woody area. Then he turned an extreme right on-and Rachel was paying attention, just in case-Bohemian Boulevard. After about two more miles, he took a sharp left on an unmarked road. He took this road for quite some time-ten, fifteen minutes, Rachel thought-before they pulled into a gravel driveway that had a path leading to a tall, wide gray building. Rachel marveled and Alec laughed at her surprise.

"We're home, Rachel."

_Not home. Prison._ _Oh, dear God, please, Mom and Dad, find me. I can't do this._

Find me and follow me through corridors… 

Xx

Jackson checked his watch for the thirtieth time in the past ten minutes. "Where the fuck are they?"

Lisa rolled her eyes and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Jackson kicked them off. "Probably doing something more important. Don't worry about it."

A knock on the door disrupted Jackson's pacing and he stormed to answer it. "Rocher, where the hell were you?"

"I had things to do, _Jackson,_ calm down." A tall blonde man entered the room, a short girl with dark brown hair followed after. Lisa looked at her. Rachel?

"So, this is Ms Rachel Redford," Jackson looked Rachel up and down and the girl shrank back with a look of obvious disgust.

"This is she," Rocher hugged Rachel closer. She angrily pushed at his chest.

When she got away, she yelled at him, "Don't touch me!"

_I like this girl already. I can tell. She reminds me of…myself._

Rachel pressed her back against the wall and glanced at Lisa, her expression softening a bit. Lisa motioned her closer and Rachel obliged.

Jackson noticed and cleared his throat. "Lisa, this is Rachel. Rachel, Lisa."

"I get the picture," Rachel snapped. Jackson raised an eyebrow at her and then nodded at Rocher.

"You keeping tabs on this one?"

"That I am," Rocher nodded with a sly wink. Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Lisa," Jackson ordered. "Take Rachel to your room so Alec and I can talk."

"What about breakfast?" Lisa whined.

He glared at her. "Later. Go."

Lisa grinned sarcastically at Rachel. "Come on. Let's let the menfolk circle the fire, beat their chests, the usual."

Rachel smiled comfortably at her and followed into Lisa's bedroom. Lisa shut the door and sat down on her bed. Rachel wandered to the window and tapped it.

"Don't bother," Lisa sighed. "It's shatterproof."


	13. they're insensitive and slightly creepy

"I'm not surprised," Rachel sighed. _Everything in my life is shatterproof. I'd like to shatter, just once in a while. I'd like to have a breakdown._

"Where are you from?"

Rachel turned back to Lisa and sat on the bed. "According to Alec, Hickville. Christiansen. It's a town about three hours north of Albany."

"Wow," Lisa's eyes widened. "That shrugged and picked at the orange bedspread. "It's better than being here."

"Florida's not so bad once you get to…"

"No, that's not what I meant," Rachel interrupted, though not rudely. "I meant with Alec."

"So-um-was there a plane involved with him and you, too?" Lisa asked. Rachel frowned. _Oh, right, her thing with Jackson._

"Kind of," Rachel said absently. "We took a plane, but that's not how I…met…him. I was walking in the woods near my house and he kidnapped me."

"Wow," Lisa shook her head. "Tell me _that_ doesn't suck."

At that Rachel burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetie!" Lisa pulled Rachel into her arms and Rachel couldn't help but bury her cheek in Lisa's soft shoulder.

_I can't take this anymore._

**_Pressure, pressing down on me…pressing down on you…under pressure._**

Xx

Jackson tossed poured Alec a cup of coffee and they sat at the table in silence for a moment. Alec was still staring at the door through which Rachel had departed.

Jackson broke the lull. "Thought she annoyed you."

"Hm?"

"I said, I thought she annoyed you."

Alec glanced up, his eyes blank. "I'm sorry, I still didn't catch-"

"Never mind," Jackson snapped, waving a hand. _Man, he's more obsessed with her than I thought he'd be._ "So how is she?"

"She's…well, she's smart."

"Congratulations. And?"  
Alec smirked. "She's not a sore to look at, either."

Jackson laughed. "That's what we're looking for, I knew you had it in you, pal. A word of advice, though, don't get involved. Between us, my attraction to Lisa is what made the job fail the first time."

"Yeah, but look how things turned out for you two," Alec grinned wryly. "You fuck her yet?"

"Not yet," Jackson sighed. "But soon."

"Really?" Alec blinked. "She's trusting you that much?"

"No," Jackson snorted. "She hates me. But what do I care?"


	14. Digging up truth and digging for secrets

**A/N-Thank you all for the reviews that got squished in time thanks to the highly annoying .net system!**

Lisa started at the sharp rap that Jackson sent to the door. "We're eating now!"

She looked at Rachel. "Are you okay?"

Rachel shrugged listlessly. "I guess."

"Hungry?"

"Not really. Alec made me eat something back at the airport. I wasn't hungry then, either."

Lisa looked into her eyes. They looked scarred. She wondered what this girl had been through to bring her to this breaking point. Surely she wouldn't be so desolate after just an evening of Jackson Rippner-type babble. "Do you want to talk? About anything?"

"Are you a shrink?" Rachel said, a little edgily, then sighed. "No. Thank you. Not right now."

Lisa nodded and helped Rachel to her feet, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Don't worry. These guys are _all_ the same. Empty threats are the worst of it."

"I hope so," Rachel bit back tears. "Because I don't think I can stand to see any more _death_."

"I know what you mean."

"I don't think you do." Lisa tried not to feel hurt at the girl's guardedness. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, you're upset." Lisa breathed deeply. _Time to face the beasts._ "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Lisa took Rachel's hand and opened the door. Alec and Jackson were seated at the table, already digging into the huge mound of French toast on their plates. Lisa raised an eyebrow and pulled a chair around to one end of the square table so that Rachel could sit next to her. Alec sat directly across from them, and Jackson sat to Lisa's left.

Rachel looked at the food in front of her, then her gaze fell to her hands. Lisa began eating.

"So, Lisa," Alec chewed and swallowed. She looked at him.

"What?" she snapped, taking a drink from her milk.

Jackson glared at her. "Watch it, Lisa. Mouthing off to Alec is like mouthing off to me."

"No, it's not," Lisa pointed out innocently. "He has better hair."

Alec laughed and Jackson rolled his eyes. Looking down at Rachel, Lisa noted that she had the beginnings of a smile. Good. That was good.

"What do you do for a living?"

She paused. _At the moment…_ "Now, or before Jackson kidnapped me?"

"Uh…both?" He shot a 'help me' look at his employer and Jackson shrugged.

"I used to manage the Lux Atlantic hotel in Miami. Then, after I was rudely physically and emotionally harassed on a flight from Texas, I was brought here and now my full-time job is making Jackson's life a living hell. Satisfied?"

"You left something out, Leese," Jackson sighed irritably. _Just falling into my new job description, Jack, don't get uptight._

"Oh, yeah," Lisa swallowed and nodded. "I also kicked his ass back at my house."

Rachel laughed. Alec raised an eyebrow at her.

"First of all," Jackson raised his voice. "That's not what I was talking about. And you did not 'kick my ass', as you so eloquently put it."

"No, no, you're right," Lisa mused. "I believe that the more affected area would have been your trachea. Oh, and your thigh."

"Do I want to know?" Alec muttered.

"No," Jackson snapped. "How's the throat, by the way, Leese? And your back, I know that must kind of hurt from when you _went down the stairs_. Daddy says hello, by the way."

"Fuck you," she snarled. _I hate him. GOD, I hate him._

Jackson just smirked and stared at her. _I'll stab this fork into those fucking blue eyes of yours._ "Not now, Leese, there's company."

"You all are so goddamn egotistical and sick," Rachel snapped, standing up from the table. "How do you sleep at night?"

"With some Lunesta," Alec growled at her. "Sit back down."

"No," she replied. _Must be on a roll. She's obviously not done yet._ "I mean, Jesus Christ, get a fucking _life._ You think you're so special, so important because you kill people and try to make them afraid of you. Guess what? I'm not afraid of you, and I never will be. The only reason I haven't tried to hurt you is for my _brother._ I'm not afraid of anything you think you can do to me, Alec, and I'd like to see you try. All it is with you is empty intimidation and threatening my brother's life!"

There was silence for a few minutes. Alec glared at Rachel. Lisa looked hesitantly at Jackson, who was fighting laughter, and then at Rachel.

_She's not lying. I wish I had her courage. All I can do is jab Jackson with a stupid hockey stick._

"Jackson," Alec finally spoke. Lisa looked back at Rachel. She was trembling, slightly, but Lisa suspected that it was from her verbal outpouring of anger. "Will you excuse us for a minute?"

"Of course," he nodded. Alec stood and grabbed Rachel's arm. Lisa lept from her

chair as well and pried his hand from Rachel's elbow.

"Don't touch her," Lisa snarled. She felt tight hands reeling her backwards and she fell into Jackson's chest.

"This is none of your concern, Lisa," Jackson hissed in her ear. "Stay out of it."

When she looked up again, both Alec and Rachel were gone.

"I hate you!" Rachel screamed as Alec shut the door. As he began striding towards her she grabbed a vase from the countertop and hurled it at him. It hit his knee and he swore as it smashed._ This isn't over yet, Rach. You think you can beat me with what you say, or hell, a vase, but you can't. And I'll prove it to you. Nobody humiliates me like that in front of Jackson_ _Rippner._

He grabbed ahold of her shoulders as she darted back for the door through which they had come and slammed her against the wall. Her head bounced back against the plaster but she made no sound. _You'll be screaming by the time I'm done with you._

"You hate me, Rachel?" he yelled. "I'm not too fond of you, either! The only reason you're here is because Jackson picked you for a job!"

"Aren't I lucky," she slurred. Her eyes looked distant. _Stay awake. I'm not done with you yet._ He hit her across the face, just for the satisfaction of it.

"And do us all a favor and quit with the _fucking sarcasm!_ I don't know if you're trying to be a bitch or if you really, really don't care about your brother at all, but either way you're not helping anybody!"

"Not helping anybody or not helping you?" she snapped at him. "I find it kind of funny how you can't take a little verbal abuse."

He paused, taking a calming breath. _Alright, then, let's see how you like it._ "What about you, Rachel? Can you take a little verbal abuse?"

She glared at him. "Yeah. A hell of a lot better than you can, I'll bet."

"Why are you such a loner? You never answered my question."

"Did you ever consider that I didn't answer because it's none of your fucking business?" He hit her again. Now her lip was bleeding.

"It _is_ my business, Rach. Everything about you is my business. Mine. Everything about you is mine. You're mine." His hand rested on her neck.

He saw her eyes turn down for a minute and he thought he saw a flicker of a tear in one of them, but that could have been his imagination. "It's not your business."

Alec let his hand slide to her shoulder. "Is it still none of my business?"

Her jaw tensed. "Yes."

Lower. He heard her sharply inhale her breath as he explored. _It's strange. I hate this girl but I'm still finding some sort of satisfaction by doing this. Do I hate her? I think I do. She annoys me, but in a way I just want her to keep talking…I think maybe I like that. _He willed his mind to focus on the task at hand. _Wear her down. You can't let her keep doing that to you in front of Jackson. You're in charge here, not some backwoods teenage hick. _

"Stop it," she said, her voice thick. She still wasn't crying.

"I don't think so," he whispered as he moved to her abdomen. "Unless you feel like telling me your little secret yet…"

"Don't make me do this…" Now he was trailing the waistband of her jeans. His finger was on the button and…

He got bored. _Goddamn it. Why don't I feel like doing this anymore? Jesus H. Christ. Grow the fuck up, Rocher._

Rachel fell to the ground as he unceremoniously stormed away. Now she was crying. He thought.

_This is easier. This way she'll have to tell me. She won't risk her brother._

He grabbed his phone and twirled it between his thumbs. "Hey, Rachel, look at me."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't want to." _Stubborn little bitch._

"Okay." He dialed a number. "Terrence? Yes, it's Rocher. She's being uncooperative, you can just go ahead and kill-"

"No!" she tried to stand. "D-don't!"

"Don't what?" he pressed the phone against his neck.

"Don't kill him!"

"Kill who?" he widened his eyes innocently.

"Don't kill Chris," she pleaded. "Please."

"Will you-"

"Yes, I will tell you my story," she cried. He heard what she called him quietly after and smirked.

"Ok, then."

"Never mind, Terrence." He hung up to the monotonous beeping of the busy signal.

A/N-Alec sucks. So does Jackson, but Alec is a bit more confused, I think. We'll get more into his, Lisa's, and Jackson's backstories a little later, right now it's all about Rachel Redford! So enjoy, and please review as always!


	15. once you find them i won't let you go

A/N-Okey dokey then. A bit of fluffiness in this chapter, with Jackson and Lisa, a little bit of sadness with Rachel and Alec. You shall see, my dear readers! Thank you so much those who reviewed even though .net was being stupid and wouldn't send them through. Anyway, enjoy!

Jackson pushed Lisa brusquely back into her chair. She glowered defiantly at him.

"He better not hurt her," Lisa menaced. "She's only sixteen-"

"And none of your concern," he finished exasperatedly. "Jesus, Leese, why do you care so much about her anyway? You just met her. Don't tell me you did the Oprah thing and swapped life stories in fifteen minutes."

Lisa picked icily at her food. "Like most human beings, Jack, I have something known as empathy for everybody. Including people I just met."

"Well, then, that's what gets you into trouble," Jackson sipped his coffee. It was too strong. He'd been so preoccupied this morning. "Isn't it?" _Feelings get everybody into trouble. That's why I'm glad that I don't have that many. If any at all. _

"I can't believe that you aren't worried about what he might do to her, though!" Lisa cried. _I can't believe that you think I'd be worried._

"Lisa, this is how we work," he sighed. "If he hurts her at all, she obviously had it coming to her. You saw her. She was being downright defiant."

"That wasn't defiant," Lisa replied indignantly. "I'm defiant. She was speaking her mind. Quite colorfully, if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, well, you got thrown down a flight of stairs for being 'defiant'," Jackson shrugged. "So cool it." He looked down at his food. He wasn't really hungry anymore. Arguing with Lisa did that to him. He sighed and cut his French toast, twirling a piece on his fork. He looked at Lisa. Then back to his fork. And promptly sling-shotted the syrup-covered piece of toast in her direction.

It hit her on the cheek and slid down her neck. She stared at him with pure rage for a moment. _Why did I do that? Was there really a point of doing that? _He thought._ No. There wasn't. I was just sick of hearing her talk._

Lisa took her plate and slammed it across his chest. The porcelain clattered to the floor as the syrup stuck to his clothes. She smirked at him and stood up to go wash her face. He followed her to the bathroom as she dabbed at herself with a washcloth.

"Move over, I get first priority," he gently pushed her and she fell against the sink. She pushed him back, much harder, and he hit the door.

"Why do you get priority? You started it." He detected a bit of anger left in her voice. And he laughed.

It was a deep laugh, he fell to the floor and shook with quakes of hilarity. He was mildly aware of Lisa staring at him.

"What in the world is so funny?" she snapped, reminding him of a sitcom mother.

"You…we—had a food fight," he laughed. _Dear God, why am I such a wreck today? _"And—you're still mad."

"Of course I am!" she cried. "You're over here, flinging French toast at people and Alec's probably emotionally scarring Rachel for life over there!"

The water in the sink is still running. He wanted to tell Lisa to turn it off, but he really didn't care. He picked another piece of food off his sweater and tossed it at her. It landed in her hair. She tried to pretend to ignore it with jaw set for a minute, but then she clicked her tongue and plucked it out, looking it at.

"I really, really don't understand you sometimes," she frowned, rolling her eyes at him. Then she cracked a smile. Which turned into a laugh.

Jackson stood up. "Well, you still have an advantage over me. I _never_ understand you."

"I don't think you'll ever need to. I don't plan on opening up to you anytime soon, you know."

"I think you already have." Jackson pulled off his sweater and tossed it in the sink to rinse out. _You have, Leese. You just don't know it yet._

He noticed Lisa glance at him and then try to leave the bathroom. He was blocking the doorway.

"Excuse me," she muttered. He looked at her. Yup. She was blushing. Hard. He glanced down and put two and two together. _Oh, yeah. Bare chest. Lisa. Lisa's paranoia. Makes sense._

"I'm sorry, am I in your way?"

"Yes. Please move."

He laughed. "Why?"

"So I can leave!"

"Why do you want to leave?" _I haven't acted this immaturely…wait. I've **never** acted this immaturely. What the hell is the matter with me?_

"Because you're changing clothes and I don't really want to look at you!"

Chuckling, he looked into her eyes. She wouldn't return the gaze, however. She was definitely uncomfortable. And getting mad again.

"Sure you do. I'm not that hard to look at, am I?"

That did it. She looked fiercely into his eyes. "You fucking egotistical-"

He kissed her. She pulled away and pushed hard against his chest to make him move. When she realized where her hand was, she backed up and quickly drew it away like she was touching hot coals.

She slapped him. "Don't ever do that again!"

He smirked. "Do what again?"

"You know…"

"No," he muttered. "I don't think I do. Enlighten me."

"You…kissed…me…you kissed me."

"Yes, I did."

"And I hate you."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"I don't think you do."

Lisa glared at him. "Well, you don't know shit, do you?"

_I want to kiss her again. Badly._ He stepped forward. She didn't move. He kissed her again and she held it longer this time.

When she pushed away, he took the chance to look at her face. Her eyes had softened considerably and she looked equally flustered.

"Do you still hate me?" She nodded. _I'm not surprised._

"Do you still want to leave?" He expected the worse. The dread was already building in his chest. But he smiled as she shook her head. _Maybe we're all full of surprises. _

_Rachel slammed her locker shut and waved goodbye to Leslie as her friend took off down the hall. She smiled at her retreating back and grabbed her bookbag off the floor. As she spun around to walk to the bus, she ran squarely into something. A tall something. A tall something with dark hair and a pale complexion. A someone. A very interesting someone. _

_The zipper on her bag chose that precise moment to split and the contents of the bag went tumbling to the floor._

_"Shit!" she bent to pick them up, forgetting the person she'd bumped into. She glanced up briefly. "Sorry."_

_He stooped to help her. "It's no problem. I should have been paying attention."_

_Rachel gathered the rest of her stuff and stood. He had her book and was looking at it._

_"The Catcher In The Rye. How do you like it so far?"_

_"Oh, I've read it before," Rachel blushed. She didn't know why. "Have you…uh…" God, she thought, why am I such an idiot?_

_"Yeah," he laughed. She liked his laugh. It was deep, like his voice. "It's my favorite."_

_She bit her lip. "I've never seen you around here. Are you new?"_

_"No," he shook his head. "I actually don't go here. My mom's a new teacher, I was helping her with some boxes. So I'm guessing you're a student?"_

_Rachel nodded. "Yeah. I'm a junior." She wanted to ask him what school he went to, or if he was even in school. He looked old enough to be in college._

_"I see. I'm a senior at Westford Prep, you know-"_

_"I know where that is."_

_"Yeah," now he looked slightly embarrassed. "Want to know a secret?"_

_A secret? "Uh…sure. Provided that it doesn't get me in trouble."_

_He laughed. "No. I'm actually eighteen. I failed a couple of grades in junior high. I could have aced the courses if I wanted to, but I just didn't really care. Sorry. I know I'm being kind of egotistical right now. I'm not usually like this."_

_"No, you're not," Rachel insisted. "Being egotistical, I mean. Why didn't you care?"_

_He bit his lip. "I was kind of…going through some family stuff. My sister died when I was going into eighth grade."_

_Rachel felt horrible. Sincerely horrible, not a polite horrible. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry! That must have been terrible!"_

_He shrugged. "Yeah. We were kind of expecting it, though, I mean, she had cancer. It was hard, but we've had ourselves braced for it since she was born. It was kind of like the last straw for me, though. I just stopped caring about all this school shit."_

_"Well, if it makes you feel better," Rachel smiled. "From the way you were talking I thought you were in college. You'd never be able to tell."_

_"That's comforting." He laughed. "So…uh…I don't think I ever caught your name?"_

_God, he's cute. He had long black hair that fell into his face, masking his green eyes. His pale skin looked smooth and soft and he was very thin. And Rachel had a very distinct feeling that he might be flirting with her. "I'm Rachel. Redford."_

_"Is it Rachel or Redford?" he chuckled again._

_"It's both. My name is Rachel Redford. Sorry." She blushed. I. Am. Such. A. Freak._

_He held out a hand. "Dan Gregory. I think I'll go with Redford, by the way."_

_"What?" Rachel giggled as she shook his proffered hand._

_"You have two names. I'll go with Redford. It's got a nice ring to it. Red." He smirked. _

_"If you can call me Redford, I can call you Gregory," Rachel teased. "Greg."_

_"Well, Ms Rachel, Ms Redford, Red, whatever," he chortled. "If you're not doing anything tonight, would you like to grab some coffee with me in town?"_

_"I thought you were helping your mom." Rachel couldn't help but feel a bit awkward._

_"I am," he nodded. "But I just finished. And she'll be here awhile before I have to drive her home. So what do you say?"_

_"I say that if there's coffee involved, I'm in!" Rachel clutched her bag together._

_"Well, good," he laughed. He took her bag, despite her firm protests. "Let's go get some of that awesome coffee."_

Rachel wouldn't look at Alec. She refused to give him the satisfaction. _I can't do this. I can't tell him._

He sat at the couch and looked at her. "Are you going to sit on the uncomfortable floor or are you going to be smart?"

She glared at him vehemently. "Not if it means I have to sit next to _you_."

He smirked. "There's another chair."

Rachel rose tentatively to her feet and sat awkwardly in the soft recliner across from him. She tucked her knees to her chest and buried her face in the cave they formed.

"I'm waiting for your story, by the way."

"Maybe there isn't one. I just like being a loner, that's all."

"That's bull. There's something behind those lined eyes, Rach, I can tell. Now spit it out before I get mad and call my guy back."

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind was spinning again.

"Rachel," Alec snapped. She opened her eyes.

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"I…." She felt tears form. _No. _It was just a dream again. It wasn't fair. She wanted Dan back.

She stood up and pressed her face against the window as she started crying again. It hurt too much to think about the Good times. When everything had been magical.

She felt cool fingers on her neck and she spun around. It was Alec, but she thought she detected something new in his eyes. Concern? Sympathy?

"Are you okay?"

"What do you care?" she shook his hands from her neck. "Don't touch me."

He gripped her shoulder. "Are you going to tell me?" _God._ She was getting sick of listening to him saying that. She sat back down in her chair. Alec returned to his perch on the couch.

"I met him the beginning of my freshman year," Rachel whispered.

"Who?"

"If you want to hear the whole story, then shut up," she snapped. This was going to hurt her enough. She didn't need to answer his fucking questions on top of it.

"Fine, fine. Keep going. You met some guy when you were in ninth grade…"

"Yeah. He was a senior, we were three years apart when we started dating. My parents hated him for a while. But then they grew to love him. Like I did. It was perfect." Her voice cracked. Alec didn't say anything.

"Everybody said that it was just puppy love. It couldn't last because we were so young. But I knew different. I could just _tell_, you know? We were together for a year when he brought me to the cave. The Dwelling. That's what we called it. His sister used to take him there when they went on vacations. It was this old cave way back in the woods…" she wasn't sure if she could keep going. This was getting too personal. The Dwelling was _hers. _It was Dan's. But it wasn't this stranger's.

"Rach?"

She wiped her eyes and kept going. "It was beautiful. There was a waterfall, and…he said that nobody had ever been there. Dan hadn't brought anybody there since his sister died. She had cancer. I was the only one. And he told me. He told me he loved me, though by then I already knew it. That was the most perfect summer imaginable."

"Did you guys ever…"

"No," Rachel shook her head. For some reason, she wasn't disgusted with Alec for asking. "Our relationship wasn't physical at all. It was just us. Our minds. I think maybe he was my soulmate. He was so much like me, he was so…I loved him. That's all there is to it."

She paused and cleared her throat. "Do you need some water?" Alec asked quietly. Rachel shook her head, wondering why he was being so understanding _now._

"I was home alone the night I got that call. Chris was at baseball practice, my parents were working. Dan was working that night. He worked at a coffee shop in Albany. He lived halfway between Albany, where he was in college at that point, for medicine, and my house, by the way. Anyway, he was working and was going to come see me that night. We were supposed to go out. He said he had a surprise for me. I had music on when the phone rang. I heard the answering machine catch it and I picked it up. It was his mom." Rachel started crying again.

Alec came over and touched his arm. She shook him off. She wasn't _that_ pathetic yet. "Rachel, I shouldn't have…I'm sorr-"

She kept going. "There was a robbery. A young kid was training at the register and didn't know what to do. Dan came over to get the money out and give it to the guy. The robber panicked and shot him. Dan died. They never caught the robber."

"Rachel, I'm so sorr-"

"There's more," she didn't bother to wipe her eyes anymore. "His mom found something in his coat. It was for me."

"What was it?"

Rachel bit her lip. "It was a song he'd written for me. He was a great songwriter, he played in a band, too. It was a love song." She cast her eyes down. _Come on, Rachel, suck it up. Now, at least, he'll stop bothering you._

She looked at Alec. "Are you happy now?"

He just looked at her. She thought she saw his eyes glisten, but she wasn't sure. This time, when he moved to hug her, she let him. She needed that.

But more than anything, she needed the past.

**A/N-Don't worry, Rachel's still herself. She hasn't turned over a new leaf and started to like Alec now.  As for Lisa and Jackson, they're not destined for happily ever after quite too soon, either. Please review! **


	16. Pleading for lives

Frederick Nolan was one of the best diplomats on the East coast. He prided himself on that and almost that only. He acclaimed his family as well. He'd married a beautiful young Thai immigrant twenty-four years ago and since became a proud speaker for immigration rights. They'd had two beautiful children, Michael, who was finishing up his first semester at Yale University, and Isis, who was in the fifth grade.

He never suspected that people hated him as much as they really did. Sure, he had a lot of negativity spiraling in his direction as a result of his tolerant international attitude, but on the flip side he had a lot of fans, too. Nolan never thought somebody would be so hostile towards him that they'd kidnap his niece, however.

His sister, Sam Redford, called him Friday evening, tears riddling her usually calm, quiet voice. She was nearing hysterics and had no one else to call. Nolan was glad that she had called. He needed to know. Rachel was his pride and joy and he considered her his own.

They sat at Nolan's kitchen table the next morning with untouched mugs of coffee. They'd had little to no sleep the night before and it was nearing six a.m. Chris was still in an unsound sleep in the room adjacent.

Sam looked pale. Nolan knew he looked little better than his older sister. He'd taken her and Chris home that night to rest back at his place. The police still considered the house and the surrounding area a potential crime scene.

"So, Gina's coming?" Nolan sipped his coffee. It was too hot and too strong and he hated it. He swallowed hard and it slid painfully down his throat. He distracted himself by steepling his fingers on his lap and studying his fingernails.

Sam nodded limply. "Yeah. She'll be meeting us here when her plane gets in. Her father will pick her up and give her a ride over."  
"He could have stayed, too, you know," Nolan murmured. Sam shrugged.

"He wanted to sleep at home. He still…" she trailed off, her words growing thick.

"He what?"

"He still thinks she's going to just walk in, all safe and sound," Sam choked and began sobbing again. "Like she was just camping out in the woods or something."

Nolan wanted to believe that as well. "Maybe she is. Maybe this all is some nightmare, induced by God only knows what, that we'll snap out of soon enough."

Sam shook her head. Nolan wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. "We're not, Freddie. I've tried pinching myself thousands of times since I got that call and I haven't woken up."

His phone rang then, and the sound resonated throughout his large manor. He quickly hopped to his feet. Sam looked hurt.

"I have to get it," he whispered. "I don't want Chris or my family to wake up."

She nodded, and he darted off to his study, grabbing the phone off the receiver.

_Please be Sam's husband with news of Rachel! Good news. Good. We want good news. _"Redford? What's the latest?"He never called his brother-in-law by his first name. They'd been college buddies before they'd been family; his first name simply seemed too foreign.

"No, Mr. Nolan, this is not who you think it is." The voice was alien, cold, and an eerie sort of calm.

He froze, his hand stopping on the doorknob. "Who is this?"

"That's for me to know and for you _never to find out._"

Nolan was strongly tempted to slam the phone back into the receiver. But the nagging thought that this might have to do with his niece kept his ear glued to the telephone.

"What do you want? Do you have anything to do with my niece?"

A laugh. It chilled him to the bone. "Who's your niece?"

"You know who, you bas-"

"Calm down, Mr. Nolan. You'll get nowhere with your hasty temper. Neither will the dark-haired young lady who currently is sitting next to me in my apartment."

_Rachel. My Rachel. I swear to God, if he's laid a hand on her…_ "I swear, you sick asshole, if you've hurt her in anyway I'll have your hea-"

The stranger clicked his tongue. "Now, that's no way to negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"Yes. I'm willing to bargain with you."

Nolan took a deep breath. "I'll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do to get Rachel back."

The man's voice lowered drastically. "I can't tell you know. Here's what you need to do. Have your computer on and ready by twelve o'clock this Wednesday. You will receive a phone call, and we will proceed from there."

"Not Wednesday! That's three days! She could be dead in that time!"

"Mr. Nolan, if you want her to die, that can easily be arranged. At the moment, however, she is being well taken care of. She has food, water, and a place to rest. The only injury that she may have acquired is out of her pure unwillingness to comply to my authority."

_That was a lot of big words. He's hurt her. But she fought back. That's my Rachel._

"Just don't hurt her. Please."

There was a highly exasperated sigh, which was the first emotion Nolan had heard from the man out of the entire conversation. "I wouldn't hurt her unprovoked. If you must know, I find her highly entertaining and quite the interesting young lady. I wouldn't waste such a girl."

_That doesn't sound good. Oh, dear Rachel, what has he done to you? I'll kill him for this. He'll die for what he's done to you. _Nolan's voice shook when he spoke again. "Why are you doing this to us? Why her?"

There was a pause, then a light chuckle. "It's all in my job description, Mr. Nolan."

"You bastard."

"By the way," the man ignored him, "if you tell anybody about this conversation, your niece will be murdered, slowly and painfully, on sight." Click.

Nolan slumped into a chair. _I'll get you back, Rachel, if it's the last thing I do._


	17. or pleading for freedom

Joe Reisert rubbed his temples and eagerly took the three aspirin that Sergeant Vrampton offered him. He nodded his thanks and took a deep breath. It was hard to focus on these questions. Right now, only one thing was on his mind, and that was Lisa. His Lisa. His baby girl.

_What if that monster's done something to her?_

"Mr. Reisert."

"What?" Joe sighed. "I've told you already, you know everything I do. Now, please, can I just go home?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reisert, but as you may be the key witness in what could be a major crime spree across Miami, we really could use your assistance. It may help us in locating your daughter."

His ears perked a little bit. "Crime spree?"

Vrampton, or 'call me Patrick' nodded. "Yes. We received reports from Miami International Airport that a young man was stabbed in the neck following a landing yesterday morning. Then we have, obviously, your case, and the Lux Atlantic was bombed, also yesterday morning, in what we believe to be an act of terrorism."

Joe wracked his brain. For some reason, he was having a major brainstorm at the moment. _What if Lisa was involved with both of those?_ "Jesus, Vrampton, why didn't you tell me this to begin with?"

Patrick sat up straighter. "Why? Do you know anything? I thought you didn't talk to Lisa at all."

"I did, for a few seconds," Joe admitted. "When she came in and asked if I was okay, then asked to use the phone. She was calling Cynthia, her friend who works at the Lux Atlantic with her. I don't know why. She just kept asking her if she was okay."

Vrampton scribbled a few notes on his pad. "Anything else?"

Joe tapped his fingers on the solid metal table, thinking. "I don't know if this makes a difference, but the man who attacked my daughter was rasping quite a bit. And he was wearing the most hideous women's scarf. Maybe he was stabbed?"

Vrampton looked highly intrigued. "Could that have been your daughter who stabbed him? She was taking a Fresh Air red-eye, correct?"

"Yeah, I think so." But then the full force of Vrampton's words hit him and he shook his head furiously. "But no! Lisa wouldn't hurt a fly. She wouldn't have done that to him."

Now the wizened officer was standing, practically pacing nervously about the small room. "What aren't you telling me, Sherlock?" Joe pressed.

Vrampton bit his lip. "I have a feeling this is all connected."

"No shit. But how?"

"My highly evolved theory is this: Lisa was planning to bomb the Lux out of spite for the customers that she faces daily. The ones you told me about."  
"Lisa wouldn't-"

Vrampton held up a hand and continued. "Her seatmate, the stabbed man, found out and started giving her the guilt trip. Lisa got mad, stabbed him in the neck, ran for it before she could get in trouble."

"So, you're saying that her seatmate is the man who followed her back to my house."

"Yes. Judging by the description you and the flight attendant gave me, they seem to match perfectly. And from the description of your daughter…well, those match, too."

Joe stood, leveling his eyes with the officer's. "Even if you're right, which I'm sure you're not, because Lisa would _never, **EVER**_ do something like that, I'm going to go with you a minute."

"Thank you."

"Now here's my question. If you're right, then why the _hell_ would this 'conscientious' guy kidnap her at gunpoint in my foyer?"

Vrampton paused. "It could be anything. Mr. Reisert, please don't get offended. We're not saying that any of this is for sure, but right now, that's what the good percentage of the evidence points to."

Joe walked towards the door. "I'm leaving."

"Suit yourself." Joe angrily twisted open the knob and began stalking down the hallway. He heard Vrampton call after him. "But it would be better if you stayed!"

Joe turned. "Why the hell should I stay?"

Vrampton shrugged. "No reason, really. Except for the fact that if we find more evidence, if you're here to find some way to support it in Lisa's favor, it'll be a much better case for her should she be charged legally for the evidence we already have."

Joe glared at him for a moment before throwing himself into a hard plastic chair. "Fine. But in the time that you're wasting with this 'crime scene' investigation, you could be trying to find my baby girl. Just know that."

Vrampton nodded, his eyes softening. _Maybe he has a daughter._ "I understand." Then he pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Double the team on the Reisert search."


	18. Complications may arise

A/N-Sorry it's taken me so long to update, guys!! I just got back from Boston a few days ago and since then have been working to catch up on everything else. Sadly, finals take precedence over my beloved fandom. Well, here's the next chapter, my lovely reviewers!!

Alec gently pushed Rachel's head off his lap and guided it to a couch pillow. He stood and covered her with a thin woolen blanket before stiffly stretching and walking quietly to the kitchen.

He wasn't sure what exactly had gotten into him. An hour ago he'd have soon as slit Rachel's throat before letting her cry on his shoulder. The old, reliable Alec Rocher that he knew wouldn't have even thought about caring for her mental wellbeing. He wouldn't have cared about her dead boyfriend albeit he would have brought it up as much as possible just to cause her pain. Alec liked to think he was a passionate sadist like Jackson. Everybody in this line of work had to be. For the number of people he'd killed, families he'd broken up, lives he'd ruined, yes. It was just simply necessary.

But now he found himself worrying. He had to figure out what the hell was wrong with him and why, when Rachel had started to cry, he'd felt a flicker of compassion. That wasn't normal.

He shook his head. He needed a distraction. Anything. He glanced at the full bottle of Kahlua on the counter and after brief contemplation shook his head. No, he needed to keep a clear mind. He bit his lip as his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"It's me." Jackson. Of course.

"What do you want?"

There was a dilated pause. "That was out of line, Rocher. What's with the attitude?"

Alec hadn't realized he'd been so short. He sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm trying to figure things out at the moment."

"Things…like what? Would they have to do with a certain someone who's currently living in your apartment?"

Alec groaned inwardly. That's all he needed, to tell his boss about his love life. _Love life? Where the hell did **that** come from?_ "Yeah. I…I don't even know."

"Alec, this is coming from a friend, not from your boss. So bear with me for a minute. Okay?"

"Got it."

"You're obviously attracted to her physically, you've got to give yourself that. Am I right?"

Alec smirked. "Yeah. How'd you guess?"

Jackson snorted. "My job is eighty-five percent of reading off people's looks, but a blind man could sense the tension between you two. She's not that hard to look at."

For a moment, Alec felt an unusual flicker of something he took to be, hard as it was to admit, jealousy. _Forget flicker. That was a full voltage._ "Now you're the one out of line, Rippner. You have your girl."

Jackson laughed. "Territorial much?"

Alec remained sullenly silent, so Jackson pressed forward. "It's fine, I'm just kidding. You _know_ that. And I guess it was out of line. I'd be pissed should anybody say that about Lisa."

He cleared his throat. _Change the subject._ "How are things with her, anyway? She wasn't too happy, I could see, when I took Rachel away."

He heard the hint of a smirk in Jackson's voice. "She's just fine. We…uh…talked. It's all good."

Alec sighed. "So what should I do about my little…problem?"

There was a pregnant pause, after which Jackson exhaled noisily. "Alec, when I found you, you were young, innocent, immature. You were a Floridian nobody with a malleable mind."

"Gee, thanks," Alec grumbled.

"Let me finish. We worked on you. Now look. You're one of the most anonymously famous men in the world. You have everything you could ever have dreamed of."

"That's that thing, though," Alec groaned. "I'm not sure what I ever dreamed of."

"Sometimes, Alec, I wish I were in your shoes," Jackson said. "There's a hell of a lot I'd pay good money to forget."

Alec grunted as well. "So, what do you propose I do? What was your point?"

"My point was this: have your fun with the girl until you figure out exactly what you're feeling. You don't want to waste valuable time puttering around in emotions. As for the job, complete it as soon as possible. If you blow this off, Rocher, the clientele will be pissed and I can't promise you any lasting protection."

"Got it." Alec moved on. "So I'll ask again: what's going on with you and Lisa?"

Jackson tsked. "You're a nosey little son of a bitch, aren't you? Well, in answer, I guess you could say that what's going on in my case is exactly what you have, but going both ways."

"Definite lust but uncertain love?"

"Yup." A lethargic break. "Make that call."

"Will do."  
"Oh, and we need to meet, all four of us."

"Four-"

"You, me, Leese, Rachel. At five?"

"Sure. What for?"

"It's time we established some ground rules. I'm afraid our little captives are getting a bit too free of will."

Alec hung up and instantly dialed Frederick Nolan's home phone number.

"Redford? What's the latest?"

Alec couldn't even attempt to hide his smirk. "No, Mr. Nolan, this is not who you think it is." He could hear Nolan's breath stop all together. He enjoyed that particular aspect of the job, that bonus that allowed him to inhibit fear in others.

"Who is this?"

"That's for me to know and for you _never to find out._"

And the games begin.


	19. when figuring out the source of emotion

Chris and Gina didn't exchange a word as they embraced. Their eyes were dry. Chris had been sobbing all night; Gina hadn't at all.

Her heart was hurting.

She'd been devastated when her father had called with the terrible news about her baby sister. Kidnapped, lost, or murdered. Neither were pleasant.

Gina hoped desperately that Rachel was just lost in the woods, but the chance now of that was almost none. They'd been searched, the police had scoured everything down to the smallest tree, no sign of Rachel except for the evidence they'd already found.

She had to face it. Somebody had done something to her sister, her best friend.

They'd hated each other until Gina had graduated highschool. Rachel had always accused her older sister of being "the perfect one" with the perfect body, perfect personality, never doing anything wrong, the one that guys craved. Gina had thought the exact opposite. Rachel was natural, she wasn't thin but she wasn't fat, she was incredibly smart and talented. The two clashed.

Then, for some reason, since she was now so far away, they'd been the closest of companions. The two confided everything in each other, but Gina had to admit that for the past two years Rachel had been worryingly distant. She wondered now if her boyfriend's death was somehow linked to this mysterious event.

Something in her made Gina believe that Rachel was okay. She wasn't quite sure why, because at the moment a good portion of the evidence was pointing to kidnapping or murder. And Gina had never heard one kidnapping story that _didn't_ end in murder.

She was impatient with the rate of work that the detectives on the case were currently going at. They were going at a sluggish pace and so far the only conclusion they'd come to was that it was most certainly linked to the nearly identical kidnapping in Miami. Gina couldn't see how and found it stupid trying to annoyingly connect the two, a waste of time.

"We have a lot of information about the case in Miami," her father had sighed, rubbing his temples as they sped back to the house from the airport in his small Volvo. "It could help us here."

"I don't see how, though, they could be related!" Gina cried. "It's completely asinine that you're deciding that because the shoe and knife prints match perfectly, you have the same killer."

"Your sister. Is not. Dead." Her father gritted his teeth and gripped the steering wheel angrily with both hands. "Don't even say that."

Now, Gina felt the area behind her eyes aching. She wanted to cry. But she couldn't. She wouldn't, not until her sister was found. It would be almost blasphemous to do so. Rachel might be okay. Why cry if everything was okay?

"Gina," Chris nestled his head into her neck and stayed there for a while, muttering fragmented sentences into her collar bone. _Poor kid. He's so, so scared._

"Sh, sweetie. She's fine. You know Rachel. She won't let anything happen."

_I remember what she said when Dan died. I can only hope that she's in control now._

Xx

_Rachel's expression was lifeless and flat as she watched the casket being lowered into the ground. _

_"Rach?" Gina touched her shoulder. Rachel drew away. _

_"I'm fine."_

_"I wasn't going to ask."_

_Rachel looked at her, her jaw setting. "Yes, you were. Please, Gina. Just leave me alone. I don't want to talk."_

_"Honey, I know this is hard, but trust me, if you talk to someone it'll hel-"_

_Rachel stumbled backwards as Gina tried to comfort her. She was angry. Livid. And yelling. "You don't know, Gina! You don't know what I'm going through right now and honestly, I don't feel like telling you or anybody else!"_

_Gina was hurt. "Rachel, please, I know how crazy you were about him. And he was for you, too. But life goes on, you'll find somebody else and start over-"_

_Rachel looked at her sister like she'd just had a spear dabbed in salt and thrown into her gut. Her voice had lowered itself to a whisper. "I loved him, Gina. This wasn't one of your teenage romances, your one-night stands. This was what they talk about in the movies. We had something, and now it's over. There won't be anybody else."_

_Gina paused. The mourners were gone. It was just them. A steady rain was falling, and Rachel's short hair was covering her eyes. _

_Rachel started to cry. She turned her back away from her sister and hugged her shoulders as she sobbed, her tears forming a dilated salty mixture with the rain water. She slid to the ground, paying no heed to her mud-coated skirt._

_Gina slid next to her. Her baby sister needed her. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled the girl to her chest. Rachel rocked against her. _

_"I could have stopped it. If I was there, I would have stopped it. He shouldn't have let him kill him. He should have been in control."_

_"Sh, love," Gina began to cry as well. "You can't always be in control. This is out of your control, there is nothing you could do and it is in no way, shape, or form your fault. He loved you. He always will. But you can't let this bring you down."_

_They stayed there for a while. An hour, perhaps, getting drenched with rain and soil. They stood when they heard voices._

_"She's fine. Sleeping. And Lisa?"_

_"Taking a nap. Man. Do women do anything but this?"_

_"Yeah. When you're lucky they get pissed off and yell at you."_

_"I look forward to it. What did you do to her?"_

_"Threw her around a bit, managed to pry her little secret from her. It's incredibly valuable, the tidbit of information she told me. She had a boyfriend who died and that, Jackson, is why she's so sensitive about everything."_

_"I see. We need to start being more thorough when we're doing our surveilling. This seemingly unimportant information that goes unnoticed has a tendency to bring us down."_

_"You got that right. So, we'll be over when she's up."_

Rachel forced open her eyes, the blurry bedroom coming into focus. She blindly grasped for her glasses on the nightstand and pushed them onto her nose.

_Where was she?_ As her eyes focused on the shapes surrounding her, she concluded that she was, repulsively as it was, in Alec's bedroom. She recalled her disgust at the staunch white and black color scheme earlier when he'd given her a tour.

"It'd be hilarious if a dog came in here," she'd remarked scathingly. He hadn't replied but she'd noticed his barely hidden cringe.

Wrenching her heavy limbs away from the soft sheets—he used good fabric softener, she'd give him that—she cried out slightly as she realized her entire body ached horribly. It made sense, since it had been her first sleep in a bed since she'd been kidnapped, and there had been a _lot_ of violence since then, and she winced and closed her eyes as her feet landed on the floor.

There was a plain mirror hanging on the wall. Rachel caught a glimpse in it as her mind leveled itself out from sleep. She looked a mess. Her hair was tangled, half of it curly and the other half completely straight. Her eyelids were encrusted with tears and her pupils looked dilated. Her clothes were either torn or very wrinkled and she was freezing. The warmth that the bed had graciously offered had all but completely dissipated and she was left shivering in the heavily air conditioned room.

_Where's Alec? And how the hell did I get here?_

With a sickening wrench she floated back to reality. He knew.

She.

Had.

Told.

Him.

His mind held snippets of her saddened past. He knew a fraction of the sorrow that she was feeling, had felt.

Nobody else did.

No one else she knew had been able to affect her like that. Many people knew her story, her family was quite familiar with it, she had not been alone in the grieving process.

But he affected her.

When she'd told him about Dan, she saw it in his face. She could see that he was genuinely sorry for a girl he hated. He pitied his hostage.

And when he'd held her on his lap and rubbed soothing circles on her back to relax her, she had let him. She hadn't let even her family comfort her. She had been trying too hard to be strong. Then now, in the worst place and to the worst person possible, she had let loose her story.

It wasn't just that she was humiliated that he knew. She was mortified that she'd _let_ him comfort her, that she'd actually been comforted by his touch. She was supposed to hate this man.

But she didn't.

She wasn't sure what she felt. If she had hated him, she wouldn't be semi-grateful that he'd helped her through the memory.

_But he brought it up,_ part of her argued. _He was the one who **made** you think about it. _

_He only wanted to help_, she retorted. _He wanted to help me because he could see something was wrong._

Rachel wondered why she was defending a murderer, the person who planned to kill her uncle.

She wondered.

But she had no reason.

…and the weird feeling was still there.


	20. A wonderful taste of liberation

**8:42 PM**

**Saturday, December 23, 2006**

Rachel felt claustrophobic and wanted badly to leave the confines of the small bedroom, but she couldn't summon up the courage or energy to do so.

Because Alec knew.

He knew her vulnerability now, and she couldn't face that knowledge.

She didn't need to go out yet. She hadn't been hungry in two days, and besides, Alec obviously didn't know she was awake yet. He would have come to bother her if he did. He was just like that. Annoying, nosy.

She was bored more than anything. She padded silently to the window, looked out. No snow. No sun. Just an inky blackness that weighed heavily on the building. She couldn't even see the ground from the window, that's how dark it was. Apparently Alec's employers didn't believe in outdoor lighting.

Rachel peered around. There was a miniscule connecting bathroom with a fancy shower, a toilet, and a sink. Looking closer, her stomach twisted into a knot. _He's prepared it for me._ Around the basin of the sink sat various female shampoos and deodorants. An extra toothbrush and toothpaste lay next to his and his razor. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

_This is sick._

She knew the closet held her clothes, and she knew that for the rest of her stay she'd be sleeping in this bedroom. _Hopefully Alec will sleep on the couch. I don't think I could hack sleeping in the same bed as him. God, no._

Rachel estimated that she'd been in this room, counting her sleep, for about nine hours. There was a shiny black digital clock on the nightstand that read the time.

She hated this room with a passion. Everything reeked of Alec Rocher. Not that he had a necessarily bad smell, but she'd grown to detest his scent because it meant he accompanied it. And he was an asshole, a chauvinistic murderer with a stone-cold persona.

_Or was he? _Rachel wondered. _Because if he was he wouldn't have been so compassionate towards my circumstance._

Here we go, she thought. Back to this old subject.

She forced it from her mind as her attention caught the closet door. Curiosity catching the best of her, she quietly pulled open the door, moving slowly in case it squeaked. She was successful.

Inside were not only the plethora of clothes she had chosen, but also a few of Alec's. The closet was large enough to climb inside, so she did just that and moved about the cool clothing.

Something hard hit her cheek. She turned to see one of his suit jackets, with a heavy lump in one of the pockets. She reached inside, dreading but anticipating what it could be.

It was a notebook. Rachel curiously flipped through it, seeing most of the usual notes. Do laundry, call Martin, meeting at six-thirty. She turned a page, and she couldn't help but draw in her breath at what she saw.

_Rachel Redford _

_Fifteen/sixteen years old_

_One brother, Chris, one sister, Gina, loves much, good relationships w/both_

_Dog Atticus, loves much_

_Close to parents but not normal teen w/arguing, distant_

_Decent grades but seems as if smarter than average_

_Likes music/books/movies_

_Mature_

_Walks in woods every day approx. 4:00—take notice_

_Untrustful_

_Boyfriends, relationships—none obvious_

_Loner_

Then she saw, in different handwriting;

_Alec- _

_Your notes are good, extensive. She'll be an easy target. Here's what you need to do:_

_1: Set a date for the kidnapping_

_2: Prepare your place for her, have knives, rope, cuffs, whatever on hand just in case_

_3: Set guy outside her house to watch her brother_

_4: Kidnap her, whatever tactics necessary_

_5: Let Nolan know you have her_

_6: Kill Nolan_

_7: Kill her_

"Oh my God," she sank to the floor, sobs rising in her chest and burning her throat. "No, no, no…"

The pad fell from her hands and she was shaking badly now. She barely heard the door open, never saw Alec push away the clothes hiding her from view.

But she saw his face bobbing in front of hers, his eyes reflecting concern and curiosity, his green orbs meeting hers, then following her hand to the notepad resting on the floor. Then a nod.

He lifted her up by her elbows and carried her out of the closet. There he set her on the bed and kneeled in front of her.

"Calm down," he ordered. "Stop crying." He went back to the closet and retrieved the book, thwacking it against his thigh. When he came back, she was rubbing her face with her sleeves.

There was a pregnant pause as her last sobs dissipated. She lifted her head and looked at him. He looked back at her and the top corners of his lips were tilted into a small smirk.

He was amused.

Without delay, Rachel hit him square in the nose. He fell to the floor from the impact of the blow and without hesitation she ran to the door.

He swore and followed after her. She made it out the front door and got down the hallway.

_Elevator, elevator, get to the elevator and you're safe._

She made it to the elevator and saw Alec running towards her down the hallway. Swearing, she frantically hammered the down button with her thumb. It closed, just in time. She heard him yelling as she shot down the floors.

_Thank you, Lord._

Rachel was calming down as she stopped on the bottom floor.

_Get outside, which'll be easy because nobody is ever downstairs, then either find a place to hide while Alec searches, run, or find a car. This is a woody area. If you can hide in the woods, you'll have a chance. _

As the doors slid open, her eyes met a pair of sickeningly poignant ones.

They were bright blue. And casually surprised.

"Oh, shit," she whispered to herself. She tried to dart past him, but he threw out an arm and trapped her in the elevator. Rachel tried to slide underneath his barricade but he moved his body and she ran evenly into his chest.

"Excuse me!" she said nervously.

"Rachel Redford," Jackson made his way into the elevator, pushing her back with him. He shut the doors and they were headed back up.

_Nonono, wrong way, go back down!_

"Now, what would you be doing all by yourself in a big building like this?"

"I was—just getting some air," she insisted. "You know. I was kind of cooped up for a while."

"Yeah," he nodded, raising an eyebrow. "And Alec said this was fine?"

_Lie._ "Uh--" _LIE, Rachel, dammit! You'd be able to do it any other time with ease!_ "Yes. Yes, he said I could."

Jackson pushed her roughly against the elevator wall, and it shook a little bit. The back of her head slammed against the mirror and colors danced in front of her eyes for a moment.

He gripped her chin tightly and sneered into her face. "I don't think that's true, Rachel. Do you want to know why?"

The elevator had stopped.

"N-no…"

"Because I can always tell when I'm being lied to," he snarled into her face. She felt his breath, his spittle on her cheeks. Her stomach twisted in repulsion.

The doors slid open. He pushed her out, and she landed into a pair of arms. Rachel looked up.

It was Alec. He twisted her arms behind her back and she screamed in pain.

"And because of that," Jackson pointed out innocently, stepping back into the elevator and pushing the down button. He winked at Alec. "See you later."

"Was that a good taste of liberation for you, Rach?" Alec hissed into her ear. "I hope so. Because now you're going to pay for it."

**A/N-o.O, the evil cliffhanger. Hope this chapter was sufficient. New one extremely soon. Please review! The more reviews I get, the quicker I update, I promise! It inspires me!**


	21. that creates unpleasant circumstances

**9:00 PM**

**Saturday, December 23, 2006**

Alec shoved Rachel back into the bedroom, slamming both the front door and the room's door behind them.

"You're upset about this _book_, right?" he threw it in her face and the wire scratched her neck. She made no sound as she backed away in fright. "Is that what your fucking fit was about?"

His nose was still gushing blood, but from the stains on his sleeves, she could tell he'd hastily tried to stem the flow. He grabbed her arms again and pushed her onto the bed, throwing himself on top of her.

Rachel tried to roll out from underneath him, but he caught her legs and wrapped his around hers to prevent movement. His hands had her shoulders pinned to the pillows.

"You're a liar!" she screamed at him. "You're a stupid murderous liar! You said you never lied, but, well, that must have been a lie, too!"

"The plan was to kill you, Rachel," he growled. "And, up until now, I was pretty sure I was going to nix the original plan."

"What, so because I hit you, you want to kill me now?" Rachel snapped. "Sounds to me like you've got a pretty big self-esteem problem."

He dug his nails into her neck. She winced. "This job initially had nothing to do with you other than the fact that you would be bait. I was going to lock you in the closet with no food until your uncle came around. But after watching you, I changed my mind."

She was about to speak, but stopped when his hand constricted speech. He continued. "I decided that you deserved better. I've had hostages before. None of them have been as lucky as you have. If any of them had acted out like you, they'd be dead."

"But here's the thing, Rachel—none of them did. You, on the other hand, are being a royal pain in my ass and for some reason…" he paused, his features tightening. "For some reason, I love it."

"If you love it so much, then why the hell is my neck bleeding?" she snapped.

"My plan's been extended," he continued, ignoring her comment. "I've been talking to people about you."

"How are you going to do it, Alec?" she growled. "Strangle me, shoot me, cut me, or will you be human for once and do it painlessly?"

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, his voice strained. "I want to. But I'm not going to."

"You're going to let me go?" Rachel's heart lifted.

"No."

It sank. "Then….what? Sell me to the circus?"

"I'm going to keep you."

"Wait…." He'd lessened his grip a little more now, but not enough for her to move. "What?"

"I've decided one thing, Rachel," he said. "And that is that I want you. I'm not going to lie. You belong to me. And I want it to stay that way. I'm not going to let you go when this whole thing is over. Now we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. If you satisfy yourself with a life with me, I can guarantee that you won't be sorry. It will be a hell of a lot less painful and I'm sure that after a while you'll grow accustomed to-"

"_No!"_ Rachel began fighting against him, pulling at his hands. "Get off me! Leave me alone! You can't do this!"

He pinned her back down. He was angry again. "I can do whatever the hell I want, Rachel. I could have you right now if I wanted to. And the little movements you're making are really making me want to, so I'd cool it if I were you."

She stopped fighting but couldn't help but tremble. "Please, let me go. Don't keep me here. This isn't right."

"I don't care if it's right or not. I want you. Every employee in this company is granted one companion and it doesn't have to be legal. With a few signatures I can make you a whole new person. You'll have a new life."

"I don't want to stay here," she pleaded. "I want to go home. I hate this place. I hate you."

"Oh, Rachel, I really don't think you do," he smirked. His face grew closer to hers. She felt his warm breath on her nose. "Because if you did, you wouldn't have cried to me. You wouldn't have fallen asleep on my lap, and you wouldn't have the look in your eyes that you do right now."

"What look?" she whispered. "I'm scared, Alec, okay? I admit it. I'm frightened to death."

He bit down on his bottom lip, hard. She felt a shuddering pulse of adrenaline rush through her veins and she twitched her jaw beneath his grip. "Why do you care so much?"

"I don't know," he murmured. He wasn't lying. "But when I want something, Rachel, I get it. And I want you."

"I'll kill you," she growled.

"If you kill me, you're as good as dead," he answered with a coy smile. "My company will in turn hunt you down and torment you to insanity or fatality. And I can assure you that Jackson will lend a helping hand in the process."

She was without words, for once. There was nothing else to be said.

Alec's face was hovering inches from hers. His breathing matched hers in a _down down up down up up down_ pattern, an uneven conglomerate of chest movement. Her mind was reeling, her brain filled with voices not her own.

They were Dan's.

_Don't let him do this to you, Rachel. You know what he's going to do._

Do you want him to? You do. You're being unfaithful. You've betrayed my memory.

Alec came closer. Everything was very slow. "No," she cried, twisting beneath him. "No, no, no…"

The voices grew louder. _What are you doing? Get him off of you! Get him off or betray me forever!_

His lips grazed hers, softly at first, and then he was kissing her.

"No," she muttered distraughtly beneath him. "No, get off."

"It's fine, Rachel," he murmured distractedly. "You're allowed to do this…relax, just for once…"

"I don't want…"

"You do want. Leave it-"

"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!"

Alec rolled off of her.

But it was too late.

The damage had been done.

She was unclean.


	22. The terror doesn't last long

**10:30 PM**

**Saturday, December 23, 2006**

"Do you have any specific repercussions about sleeping in my bed?"

"Are you going to be in it?" Lisa pressed, tossing a pillow atop the fresh sheets and pulling down the blanket.

"That's kind of instigated in the possessive noun."

"Do I have a choice either way?"

"Not really. But if it's really a big deal to you, I can sleep on the couch."

She paused. "I'll sleep with you in your bed, but you try _anything_ and I'll kill you."

Jackson, Lisa had learned in the past day or so, was quite different than she'd thought. She discovered something new nearly every time the clock hand made a full circle.

At two, he cooked quiche. Quiche.

At three, he expressed his love of Florinese literature.

At four, he told her about his four years spent studying in the Czech Republic.

At five, she found out that he was actually from Ontario.

At six, she learned of his distaste for coffee.

At seven, while they watched a cheesy entertainment story on television, she learned of his passion for Mexican war movies (not that the war part particularly surprised her, but the ethnicity came as a bit of a shock).

At eight, when she came back from a shower (which was pleasantly uninterrupted), she saw him poring over a wrinkled photograph with a bemused expression on his face.

At nine, she still hadn't figured out what it was.

But now, at half past ten, she discovered something completely different.

Jackson Rippner wore glasses.

"Wow," she nodded in bewilderment as he pulled them off and gingerly placed them on the nightstand. "Who'd have thunk it."

"What?" he grumbled irritably, flipping off the light and tossing the blanket over his shoulder. "I have bad vision. Get over it. Good night, Leese."

"Oh, no, you don't," she turned the light back on with a flick of her wrists. "I'm not done with you yet."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then looked at her with an inviting glance. "I thought you didn't-"

Lisa slapped him in the neck. "Not even _remotely_ funny."

"Then what do you want? And hurry up. I'm tired."

"What was that picture you were looking at?"

He sighed and lay back down, closing his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. Do you realize how many pictures I look at in a day? All part of the job description."

She curled up on her pillow, near him but still a comfortable distance apart. "The black and white one. When I came out of the shower."

He thought, and there was a heavy silence for a moment. He didn't open his eyes.

Lisa scowled at him and turned the light off, sighing dramatically and flopping to her side, not facing him.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Just don't expect me to ever share anything with _you_ again."

She'd begun exploring the outer rim of sleep when his voice roused her. "It was Alec."

"Huh?"

"The picture. It was Alec Rocher."

"Why were you looking at it?" she turned back to him, pleasantly surprised.

"Trying to figure something out. He seems so familiar, yet I can't place it."

"It's weird you mentioned it," Lisa nodded. "Because when I met him, I felt the same way. It's kind of like when you see somebody in a dream and you know who they are but can't label their faces."

"Exactly. I've been trying to figure it out for two years, ever since I found him."

"You found him?" she frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Just what it sounds like. God, I remember that day so well. Like yesterday…"

xx

_Jackson angrily kicked an empty soda can across the street, where it's journey was interrupted as it crunched into a solid brick wall._

_"Goddamn them!" he muttered loudly to himself. _

_He'd been screwed over again. The job had been planned and, two hours before it was to be set in motion, the clients had canceled._

_Thousands of dollars down the drain, which, naturally, he'd been able to pry from their otherwise cold, dead hands, but still. That was a lot of work for a lot of nothing._

_He needed a drink. A dying neon sign blinked in the horizon. Probably a mile's walk. That was fine. He needed to walk off this frustrated adrenaline._

_Jackson took a brief shorcut through a darkened alley, and the blackness formed a cloak over his eyes. He didn't care. He was relatively good at feeling his way in the darkness, and he wasn't worried about being assaulted. He had his strength, he had his wit, and most importantly, he had his knife._

_His feet collided with something about midway and he swore as he tripped and fell over whatever it was. _

_Jackson felt around once he had regained his balance, and his fingertips grazed a pair of feet. Then legs. A torso, a head. _

_"Shit," he murmured, feeling a too-familiar stiffness about the body. _Corpse,_ his mind reminded him. _

No, not necessarily,_ he argued, remembering a movie he'd seen ages ago. The Princess Bride.__There is a difference between mostly dead, and all dead. This guy wasn't all dead. He could tell._

_Jackson felt in his pocket for his cell phone and flipped it open. The illuminated screen provided him enough light to work. _

_The drunken bluish haze lit up the 'corpse's' face. He was young, in his early to mid twenties, with a thick shock of long blonde hair that fell in his face and hooded his bright green eyes. They were partially open, along with his mouth, that gave evidence of extremely crooked teeth. _

_He was in bad shape. He looked strong enough, but he'd been through quite an ordeal. He was bleeding from what looked like a gunshot wound in the shoulder, and along with that his leg was jerked at an odd angle. Broken, most definitely. _

_A long scar ran from his hairline to his upper lip, the blood pouring out and covering his face. Jackson wiped some of it free with his sleeve because if the flow got any worse it could suffocate the kid._

_He debated what to do. The most logical thing, for a man in his position, would be to leave him to die. But as the man shifted slightly on the ground and moaned loudly in agony, Jackson fought his brighter instincts and hefted him into his arms. _

_He was heavy, but lighter than he'd anticipated. Jackson turned around the way he'd come and tentatively set him in the backseat of the car. To hell with the interior lining._

_They were almost back at the safehouse when the kid made another noise. It was the noise of death, a sound of rattling breath and pained gurgling._

_Jackson slammed his foot to the accelerator and sped up. _


	23. before she's on her feet again

A/N-Thanks for sticking with me, I know this story is unbearably lengthy. There's just a lot of plot stuff happening behind the scenes, so it needs the tiresome details. Thanks again, and please review!

**6:00 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Alec bolted upwards in bed, covered in a cold sweat.

It was that dream again.

It seemed like whenever he was the least bit troubled, he had it. It was always the same, it was him chasing somebody with a bloodied dagger. Truth be told, it scared the hell out of him.

The question was why.

Alec had killed people before, he had few repercussions. But when he had this vision, it truly _frightened_ him. For the two or so years that it had been occurring, he'd tried everything to rid himself of it. Hypnosis, meditation, candles, eyemasks, counseling. Nothing.

He shook the thought from his mind as he pulled the cover up to Rachel's neck. Smiling, he tiptoed from the room and quietly closed the door, leaning against it on the other side.

She was beautiful.

And when she slept, he didn't have to worry about her trying to escape or hurt him.

When she slept was when he was bored.

Alec sighed and padded to the kitchen in his pajama pants, thinking about Rachel as the coffee began to percolate. After her little fit, he'd been thoroughly surprised. She'd been angry, which wasn't all that unusual, but the point and vigor at and with which she'd said it shocked him.

Rachel had been terrified beyond belief, she'd told him that. It hadn't been a lie, he could see it clearly in her face and had felt the quakes of fright that had trembled through her veins. It was quite an invigorating sensation and he'd admittedly a little too hasty. She'd set him straight with her yell. He really hadn't expected it. The tone of her voice sounded distant yet at the same time panicky. She'd been desperate.

And he knew that Rachel hated to show her desperance.

Or any emotion at all.

Alec listened for sounds in the bedroom as he set a frying pan on the stove and readied the ingredients for breakfast. She was still fast asleep.

She hadn't been at all happy about the sleeping arrangements the night before, not that it shocked Alec any. He'd decided that since she would be with him until the death, she had better get used to sharing a bed with him.

Didn't go down well.

First, she decided she would sleep on the couch. He dragged her back by her elbow, with Rachel unabashedly kicking and screaming the whole way there. The second, she'd tried to lock the door to the bathroom and stay in there, but he had a key and she was his within seconds. The same situation happened when she tried to sleep on the carpet floor.

It was when she tried to push _him_ off the bed that he was irritated.

"Listen, Rachel," he grunted, pinning her arms to the bed as she squirmed. "This is completely innocent and it'll stay that way unless you decide to try and get out of it _one more time._ If you do, I can guarantee that I won't be as understanding towards you _or_ Christopher. Do we have an understanding?"

"I hate you."

Alec smirked and collapsed onto the pillow. He heard Rachel's rough breathing for half an hour before it finally evened out and she drifted off. Only then could he himself fall asleep.

He felt bad for a while that he had forced her into this, but the feeling soon faded. He saw nothing wrong with it. It wasn't like he was mean or abusive to her unprovoked, and she had everything she could ever want. And generally, he was a good…mate, or boyfriend, or husband, whatever. He was strong, not necessarily gorgeous but not ugly, either, and he wasn't above bragging about his wit, either. And he had a sense of humor. Then again, that must be pretty obvious after seeing the way he dealt with Rachel Redford.

You had to have a sense of humor to fall in love with a girl like that.

Alec smelled the eggs burning before he saw them and quickly turned the stove off, cursing his ignorance.

As he doled out amounts on ceramic plates, whistling to himself, he heard a floorboard creak behind him and turned.

"Good morning, Rach-"

He never even felt the lamp hit him before he delved into an inky black darkness…

**6:30 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Rachel could only stare in horror at the bloodied head on the floor for a moment.

_Oh my God,_ she thought. _What did I do?_

_Run,_ a voice told her. _Run, get the hell out of here before he wakes up! _

_**If** he wakes up, _someone argued. _Maybe you killed him._

Alec stirred. Rachel instinctively backed away. Her hand was on the doorknob now. _Just turn around, get outside, and run. Jackson won't catch you. Alec called him last time. Just go, GO! _

She was out. She made it to the elevator as she heard a crash from the apartment that only meant that Alec was awake, and angry.

"Go, go go," she hopped on the balls of her feet as the elevator gracefully soared downwards.

At the lobby, she sprinted outside, not bothering to look first for early-rising employees in the office. There weren't any.

When Rachel got outside, she went straight to the woods, her logic catching her attention. There were two cars, and neither of them would have keys but instead alarms that would screw her over.

She ran for about five minutes before she decided she was clear of the complex. She didn't have much time, she figured, before every employee would be looking for her. That meant that she needed to find a safe haven where she could call the cops and her parents.

Rachel had been running, then jogging, and finally briskly walking for about fifteen minutes when she finally found the main road. Smiling joyously, she began walking more quickly until she stumbled upon a Starbucks.

She threw open the door and ran to the front desk.

"Call the police, please!"

The zitty teenager running the cash register just stared at her, popping his gum. "Uh…what?"

"Call the _goddamn _police!"

He still didn't move. Rachel slammed the counter with her fist, knowing she looked insane but not caring. "Just call them! It's an emergency!"

This time he scrambled for the phone behind him, dialing 911 as Rachel repeated her emergency. He looked wide-eyed and shocked as she stepped off to the side and slid into a booth. She had a call to make of her own.

Her hand scrabbled inside of Alec's coat and she smiled as she found what she was looking for. His cell phone.

_Thank you, Alec, for being such a scatterbrain. _

Her thumbs shaking, she rapidly dialed her home phone and was relieved when somebody answered. It was Gina.

"Gina, thank God," Rachel breathed excitedly. "It's Rachel!"

"Rachel!" Gina squealed. Rachel heard the telltale pitter patter that told her everybody in the house was running to listen next to Gina. "Oh, my God, sweetie, where are you?"

"Florida," Rachel paused to take a breath and in the short period of time Gina exploded.

"FLORIDA?" she yelled. "What the hell are you doing all the way down _there_?"

"I was kidnapped," Rachel murmured after a break, almost ashamed. Was she ashamed? She knew she shouldn't be. Or maybe she was more ashamed at escaping. "Because somebody wanted Uncle Nolan dead."

"So you were a hostage?" Gina rushed. "Where are you now?"

"I escaped," Rachel answered. "I—I think I almost killed somebody." She started to cry. "I hit him with a lamp. What if he dies? Gina, what if he dies?"

"Self-defense," Gina said worriedly. Not for Alec. For her sister's sanity. "It was self-defense. You won't go to jail."

_I'm not sure that's what I meant. _"But he never hurt me without reason. God, Gina, what if he dies?"

"Sweetie, calm down," Gina urged her.

"Yeah, sweetie," Alec muttered as he firmly pushed her further into the booth, tossing an arm around her shoulder. She stared up into his eyes with obvious horror. "Calm down."

"No," she whispered frantically, shrinking away from him.

Alec gripped her knee and stared intensely into her eyes. A long cut started on his neck and the rest was concealed by his shirt. A lump indicated a bandage and his face was scrubbed red and clean. He shaped up fast. But then, he'd had a car.

He grabbed a napkin from the table and scribbled on it.

She peered over his arm and read it as her chest constricted.

_You give your sister a location and **I will kill Christopher. **I have a phone in my jacket pocket right now, my thumb is over the keypad. With one stroke at your voice, **he will be dead.** But remember, Rachel…_

_It's your choice. You or your brother._

Rachel's mind debated over what to do. She could try and stall, but she knew if Alec heard the sirens, he would press the button and bolt. Probably with her along with him.

There was only one option. She had to bluff to Gina, and hope to hell it would work. She'd ultimately have to face Alec back at the apartment, but at least Chris would live.

"Rachel?" Gina yelled. "What's going on? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," Rachel whispered, with a glance at Alec. He smirked and loosened his grip on her knee to a gentle caress. Her stomach lurched. "I need to go—the—the police are here."

"Rachel? Where are you?"

"Fl…." Rachel looked at Alec. He shook his head. "I have to…I need…"

"No, no," Alec continued wagging his finger.

"August 17, 1999!" Rachel cried into the phone. Alec ripped it from her hand and spat into it.

His voice was a low growl as he snarled at her sister. "I hope you're satisfied, Gina, because Rachel will pay dearly for her mistake." He clicked it off and pocketed it.

"Make another noise and your brother is dead," Alec snapped angrily at Rachel, his eyes intensely fixed on hers. He grabbed her arm and tucked it under hers almost lovingly.

He made a sort of sidestepping pattern as he walked out of the café so that the cashier wouldn't notice them leave. Rachel heard the sirens in the distance and her eyes began to flood. _No…_

Alec tugged her all the way out to his Renault without a single set of eyes falling upon them. Rachel leaned her head against her window in defeat.

His neck had started to bleed again. Furiously, he grabbed a roll of paper towels from the backseat and pressed the whole thing up to his collarbone as he sped down the road.

He was surprisingly quiet the rest of the way home, slowing down a little and curbing smoothly to a stop in front of the apartment building.

When they passed by Jackson's apartment, he was just stepping out the door. He cast a sidelong glance at Alec and did a double-take.

"Whoa! What happ-"

Alec glared at him and shoved Rachel inside their room, slamming the door behind them.

She was feeling strangely guilty again as he motioned for her to sit on the couch. She felt like a small child who'd just tried to run away from home.

_Where did that come from? This isn't my home._

Alec sat across from her, hunched over his knees, and pulled out his cell phone. He tossed it loosely between his hands. Rachel clutched her elbows, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to contain her compressed sobs.

"It's Christmas Eve, Rachel."

"I know," she murmured. "That's why I wanted to go home."

"Pardon my French, but that was pretty fucking selfish of you, if I do say so myself."

"Why would that be?" she hissed. "Because I want to spend Christmas with my family and not a crazed possessive murderer?"

Alec lept to his feet and shoved her against the back of the couch. "No, Rach," he growled, waving the phone in her face. "Because you almost killed your brother."

She snorted. "What the hell do you know about selfish?"

He paused a moment, cocking his head and pulling himself off of her. He walked calmly to the window and punched in the too-familiar number.

"I'm going to give you one minute, Rachel, to tell me what you said to your sister exactly meant before I kill your brother."


	24. Blackjack would be better

**8:00 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Xx

Lisa yawned and rubbed her eyes as Jackson shut the door.

"What was that all about?"

He shrugged and moved to the stove to preheat the oven. "I have no idea. Hungry?"

"Very. Whatcha making, Aunt Jemima?"

Jackson cocked his head at the oven. "Muffins."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Lisa slid up to the table, rolling a napkin holder haphazardly between her thumbs.

At the familiar beeping of the ready stove, Jackson sat down across from Lisa and studied her. It was several minutes before she even noticed. When she did, she was extremely perturbed.

"What?" she grumbled, then, "take a picture, it lasts longer."

"Why did you give in?"

Lisa did a feigned double-take and laughed. Jackson did not, averting his eyes to the tablecloth. She paused with a weighted sigh. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's a pretty loaded sigh, Leese. Care to elaborate?"

"I told you, I don't know what you-"

Jackson snapped his head back up, his eyes flashing. "Cut the shit, Lisa. You know _exactly_ what I mean and you're avoiding the question. I want to know why, so abruptly, you stopped being a bitch and started acting normal about the whole situation. It's far from normal and I hardly think that just because I _kissed you_ things changed between us. You're not that type of person, and you _know it._"

Lisa thought. _Why _did_ I relent to him? He's right, I don't feel anything for him romantically, the kiss did nothing. It was somewhat interesting and mildly intriguing at the time, but I'm not incredibly keen on reliving the experience. So why haven't I tried to escape again?_

"I'm not too sure of that myself, Jackson. Part of it is probably because part of me knows that there's no life for me outside of these walls. I may hate it here and this very well be the rest of my life, but if I did get out, either the legal system would jail me for the Keefe assassination, they'd kill me for the Keefe assassination, or one of your slack jawed cronies would do the deed for them."

"You didn't want to believe that a week ago," Jackson paused, smoothing his shirt. "What changed?"

"Let me continue," Lisa took a breath. "There's also…Rachel. She wasn't here the first few days I was."

"So because of a tough-ass highschool girl you decided to be a good dog and stay put for once?" His last jab insulted her, and she could tell he saw that as he cast his eyes downward. "Sorry."

She fixed him with a withering glare for a moment before continuing. "I don't want her to get hurt, and although I know that she's Alec's responsibility and not yours, I have a feeling that if I get under your skin, you'll find a way to hurt her."

Jackson smirked. "Well put. Maybe a little bit more of me is rubbing off on you than you think, Leese."

She stood in disgust and pushed in her chair. It rattled the table, causing Jackson's cup of coffee to spill over the side and into his lap. "I may not try to escape, Jack, but if you ever say _anything_ like that ever again, I can guarantee you that spilled coffee will be the least of your worries."

He lept from the table and slammed her shoulders against the wall adjacent to the table. "Was that a threat?"

Her eyes twinkled as he hissed at her. "I don't know…_Jack_," she whispered coyly. "Why don't you be the judge? You seem to make enough of them to know the topic well enough."

He glared at her but released his grip, stalking back off to the oven and yanking open the door, peering furiously inside.

"The muffins are done."

Xx

**8:34 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"It meant nothing!" Rachel screamed at Alec, trying to wrestle the phone from his grip. "I swear to God, it meant nothing at all!"

"If that's true, Rachel, then why would you waste precious time spitting it into your sister's ear?" he yelled. "Don't even _try_ to play the innocent card with me."

"It. Was. Nothing!"

Alec grabbed her wrist on her latest swing and twisted it sharply. It snapped beneath his grip and with a cry of shock and agony, Rachel crumpled to the floor. She hugged it to her body and started to cry.

"Your tears don't phase me, Rachel. Tell me, _now_. You have fifteen seconds. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twe-"

"It was a date," she hurried.

"Obviously. Of what?"

"A—a trip," she said slowly. "A memorable family vacation a long time ago."

Alec narrowed his eyes at her as he tossed the phone back into his pocket and zipped it up. "To where?"

Rachel hung her head and didn't reply. Alec slid to the floor next to her and tilted her chin skywards. "To where?" he repeated.

"Fl-Florida."

"Orlando?"

She nodded limply.

"I told you there would be consequences for misbehavior, Rachel."

"Please don't hurt him," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please. He has nothing to do with this."

"It's always about you. Isn't it?" his face contorted into a sneer as he watched her sob. She didn't anwer.

"Yes, it is. Right now, Rachel, I'm going to assume that your sister, dim-witted as she is, won't figure out your little clue. But she's not the problem. Who else was listening?"

"Nobody."

"That's a lie. How many people would have heard her scream your name when you called?"

"I don't know. I—I didn't call home. I called her cell. She's in college."

"I'm not sure I believe you, Rachel," Alec continued. "See, what if she came home when dear Daddy told her you'd been kidnapped? What if other people in your family or the police were listening?"

"I—I don't think they were."

"Would you bet your life on that, Rach?"

She paused, looking up at him. His jaw was set. "Excuse me?"

"Would you bet yourself?"

"Why-"

"I'll tell you the whole 100 truth. I have _no idea_ if your sister is home or if she isn't. If she isn't, then that's great. I don't have to kill anybody, and you're safe. If she is, then you and your brother are screwed. I'm willing to make a bet with you. If I'm right, and I'll call my guy who's surveilling your house right now to find out, if Gina _is_ home, you give yourself _to me._ You do what I tell you to when I tell you to, no more fighting, no more whining. If you're right, I'll leave you alone. I'll let you be by yourself until this job is done, no more of my telling you what to do. How does that sound?"

"Why would I even possibly risk my independence in a stupid bet like that?" Rachel snapped. Alec leveled his gaze.

"Because, Rach, I thought you were sure of the fact. If you are, there's nothing to lose. If you're lying, well, then you'd better just hope my guy's been drinking. And then there's this: either way, I promise not to kill your brother. For now."

She thought. _I risk myself doing this—but it could work. I don't know where his guy is hiding, he _might not_ have picked up my sister coming home. Alec's not lying._

_He doesn't lie._

_But either way, Chris is saved. That's the most important thing, right? Right._

"Fine."

Alec twirled his phone in his fingers and pulled it open, dialing a number.

Rachel saw the whole thing like it was in slow motion.

"….Gina home….?"

"….her sister…."

"….she is…..?"

"…ok, then…"

"…thank you…"

Alec turned to her, a triumphant grin invading his cheekbones.

"You've really got this lying business down pat, Rachel."

She looked away, her throat constricting as her eyes burned with tears. "Whatever. You win. I'm a good little girl now. Happy?"

"You made a bet, sweetie, and you being 'good' had little to do with it."

She looked up. _Oh God. He didn't mean what I thought he meant. _"Wh-what?"

"You know what."


	25. than this constant gamble for life

**10:00 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"August 17, 1999," Gina kept the phrase circulating through her brain. "Why does that date stick out so much?"

"What do you care?" Chris sighed, resting his head on the floor of Rachel's room. "It's not like it's going to save our sister."

"That's the last thing she said to me before we lost the connection," Gina snapped, throwing her pen to the floor. "It must have meant something. It's obviously code, it _had_ to have been. If she were safe, if somebody wasn't watching her, she would have just flat-out said where she was."

"Or maybe she was just losing it." Gina stared in disgust at her brother and crossed her legs, looking around her little sister's room.

"August 17, 1999. So Rachel was…"

"Nine."

"Right. Wow, long time ago. And I was…"

"Fourteen, and I was four. Happy now?"

She glared at him. "What was so memorable from that time?"

"Uncle Ed died."

Gina bit her lip and shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. Rachel wouldn't remember the death of an uncle she barely knew. What else?"

"Well…" Chris thought. "It was my first trip to Walt Disney World. But that doesn't really have anything to do with Rachel."

_Rachel loved Walt Disney World. _"Oh my God!" Gina screeched, jumping off the bed. Her foot landed on Chris's hand and he howled, leaping from the floor. "Sorry. But that's it!"

"So…Rachel's in Disney World?" Chris frowned. "Nice kidnapper."

"No, idiot, she's in Orlando! Or maybe Kissimmee? Somewhere around there! I'm almost positive!"

"Aren't you glad I'm so inquisitive?" Chris proudly questioned. Gina just stared at him.

"I have to go tell the detective."

"Wait!"

Gina turned in the doorway. "What?"

"Remember the bits of evidence that pointed to the Keefe assassination?"

Gina nodded. "Yeah. What about it?"

"_That was in Florida, too."_

She nodded worriedly and darted off to the kitchen.

Xx

"This is insane!" Joe yelled as Vrampton cuffed him behind his back. "I had absolutely _nothing _to do with this, and neither did Lisa!"

"Resisting arrest," Vrampton sighed, "will do nothing to help your mounting case."

"What _case?_" he snapped. "What possible evidence do you have against us?"

Vrampton flashed a few photographs in Joe's face.

The first was of Lisa's kidnapper, the alleged Jackson Rippner, with a pen sticking out of his neck. Joe liked that picture, even though it pained him to know who had put it there. His daughter.

The next was of a sports utility vehicle sticking out of Joe's living room, with a chalk outline of a body in front of it. Oh, yeah. Because Lisa hit that guy.

He turned to Vrampton. "So, Lisa doesn't have much going for her. But what about me? What does any of this have to do with me?"

Vrampton narrowed his eyes and nodded his head to the doorway. "We have a witness, came in yesterday. She claims that she was on board the red-eye flight your daughter was supposedly 'harassed' on. Had some very enlightening information for us. Doesn't look good for you, pal. Your daughter is the prime suspect, and guess what?"

"You rank as her accomplice."


	26. Testified falsities

**10:30 AM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"Shit, Sheila," Jackson swore into the phone. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Well, I don't know," she sighed irritably. "I just _assumed_ that you would want me to. Why else would I ride that night?"

"Just _in case_," he snapped. "You were supposed to wait for my order."

"Oh, you mean like Isaac did?" Sheila spat. "And looked what happened to him, the 'good dog' got himself run over."

Jackson ran a hand through his hair and peeked his head into Lisa's room. The bathroom door was still shut, the sprinkling of the shower water still evident. Even so, he lowered his voice. "But--"

"Jesus, Jack, get over it. Now you'll have the bitch with you forever. If she leaves, she's screwed. So this is a pretty sweet deal for you, don't you think?"

He hung up on her and slid back to his desk and laptop, re-reading the email she had sent him.

_Jack-_

_I went in to the cops today and testified against the Reisert bitch. Here's what I said, since I know you'll freak out if I don't tell you:_

_"I was riding the red-eye flight and was sitting kind of across from the two—Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner. I heard their names as they talked. I'm incredibly nosey, I'm sorry, but I guess for once it came in handy! The Mr. Rippner fellow was quite sweet, helped me with my bags and everything, more than once. I could see that Ms. Reisert was a shifty character to begin with, kept glaring at me whenever I would ask him for help. But she would never make eye contact. _

_The first threat she made to him was that she would kill him if he didn't kill Keefe for her. She kept making calls back to her contact in Miami—Joe, or something—pretending that she was terribly upset because her seatmate was harassing her, which wasn't true, it was actually the reverse—but once, when Jackson went off to the bathroom, she was talking to her father and reconfirmed their plans. Then, later, she followed him into the bathroom and—do I have to go into detail here? Fine. It sounded like they were—well—you know. I believe she was desperate and trying to regain his trust for him to help her, but obviously he didn't. When they got off the plane, supposedly Mr. Rippner hadn't been of much help, because she shoved a pen into his neck. I ran to help but she, unfortunately, got away." _

_How's that, Jackie boy? I quite like it. I play you as the hero. The Reiserts are as good as dead. _

_-Sheila_

"But I don't _want_ them dead," he grumbled into his palms. "This wasn't supposed to work out this way. Goddamn, Sheila, why don't you ever _listen_ for once?"

"Who's Sheila?"

Jackson closed his eyes briefly in frustration and self-humiliation then slowly turned in his chair to face Lisa in the doorway.

Her head was cocked curiously in his direction, her wet hair falling casually across her eyes. She stared at him until he answered.

"A friend," he briefed cautiously.

"Something tells me that you're not telling the full truth," Lisa continued, stepping closer. "And something else tells me that Sheila knows something I don't, something I _should._"

"Remember the discussion we had, where I told you that you were being framed for the Keefe assassination?"  
"Yes…"

"And do you remember, on the plane, the woman I helped with her bags, the obnoxious blonde one?"

"What about her?" Jackson noticed Lisa's words getting shorter and shorter.

"She kind of accidentally-on-purpose framed your dad, too."

Lisa lunged for him. As she tackled him to the ground, his laptop fell along with him—but luckily it didn't shatter as it clattered to the floor. _I'll take care of that later—once I get her off of me._

She was slamming her fists into every uncovered part of his body but he felt nothing.

"You—bastard—how—could—you—do—that—to—me!"

"Lisa!" he yelled, shoving at her elbows to push her off. She didn't budge. "I didn't have anything to do with-"

"You're the manager! Of course--had something to do with it!"

She continued to wail at him. Jackson felt the skin on his lip break and a streak of blood begin to trickle down his chin. That was it. With all his might, he slapped Lisa hard in the face. She reeled backwards and stared at him, clutching her cheek.

"You--"

"Self defense, Leese." He got up and stalked to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack for his mouth. Surprisingly, it felt like one of his teeth was loose. "Like I said. I had nothing to do with it."

"What are they doing to him?" she hissed at him, following him into the room. "Make them let him go!"

"I can't do that, Leese," he laughed. "I'm an assassin, not an attorney. Best we can hope for is that he finds a damn good lawyer and gets himself out of there. Sheila had him nailed as an accomplice."

"Sheila?" Lisa shot back at him, her voice dripping with sticky-sweet sarcasm. "Sheila was the one to spout lies to the detective? Her name is _Sheila_?"

"No, her name is Alfred," Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yes. Her name is Sheila."

"And she works for you." Lisa delivered a sour punch with every move her mouth made.

"That's right," he paused and continued. "But listen. She was a device planted on the plane _in case_ you decided to get cute. Which, might I remind you, _you did._ She saw the pen in my neck, decided that you'd probably won. Since I never called her because I was too busy taking care of business back at your dad's house, she assumed it was okay for her to act as a false witness. If you'd have just let things be…"

"If I had just let things be, Jack, I'd be in the same predicament," Lisa snapped. "Only _I _would be in jail as well."

"But your dad wouldn't," he pointed out coyly. She glared at him. "Either way, Lisa, I was going to steal you. But if you had just complied and done what I'd told you to on that plane, your dad would be free because Sheila wouldn't have gone to the cops."

Lisa looked at her feet. There was a lapse in dialogue. Jackson picked up his phone and briefly checked his messages.

Lisa's gaze was fixed back on him when he'd finished.

"What?"

She had a solitary tear rolling down her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone as it splattered across her skin. "I hate to admit that you're right," she whispered.

Jackson bit his lip, hard. "I hate to admit it, too."

"Why-"

"I never had anything against your dad, Leese," he sighed. "Against either of you. That's why you're here with me right now. Because I think it would just kill your dad to see you behind bars, maybe even more than me."

"But he probably thinks I'm dead."

"Tell you what, Lisa," he bargained. "If I can find a way to get ahold of your dad, and you promise not to reveal where you are and who you're with, I'll let you talk to him and tell him you're okay."

She surprised him by rewarding him with a huge hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."


	27. cause the truth to spill out

A/N-So many updates, so little time. I've been too busy to fix my modem, yet I have time to write astronomical amounts of chapters. Hi.

Xx

**11:30 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

His phone rang suddenly and he held up a finger to Rachel. She stalked away, back into their bedroom.

"This is Rocher."

"It's me. We have a bit of a problem." Right. His guy surveilling Rachel's house.

"Okay. What is it?"

"The girl's sister figured out the little clue your bitch gave her."

"She's not a bitch," Alec snapped, then cleared his throat. "That is a problem. What about Nolan?"

"Let me check the monitors." There was a pause. "I don't think he's there. A lot of her family is coming down to Orlando as we speak with the cops to do some poking around. But don't worry, I'm still following them."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I…uh…" he hesitated. "I wasn't sure how you would take it."

"Well, now I'm screwed and this is going to have to be completed sooner than I thought," Alec growled. "Mess up again and I promise to personally kill you." He hung up and slammed his phone onto the coffeetable. It beeped in response.

He called Rachel back out, and, true to her promise, she obliged. "What?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have to complete the job today. Because of the little clue you gave your sister. I'm going to call your uncle, go clean yourself up and get your coat." She walked back into the bedroom and silently shut the door. Her silence disturbed him, but he had requested it, so he said nothing, picking up his phone once more.

"Yes, hello, this is Frederick Nolan."

"Mr. Nolan. This is your niece's little friend."

There was an angry pause. "You haven't touched her, have you? I'll kill you!"

"As warm and fuzzy as that promise makes me feel, Mr. Nolan, I'm going to remind you that _I_ have the upper hand here, the upper hand in the form of Rachel. I haven't hurt her. Much. Touched her, yes, but not wounded her."

"You asshole, just let her go!"

"We had an agreement, Mr. Nolan, one which is coming full circle today. I'm afraid that because your niece spilled the beans about our location to her sister and you're on your way, we'll need to meet now. Not Wednesday."

"Fine, fine, just as long as your stupid company lets her go!"

"I promise they will. Now. Meet me at the Shorebridge Café in Kissimmee in one hour, if your travel plans permit."

"They do."

"Good. See you then, Mr. Nolan."

He hung up and dialed Jackson to inform him of the change. When that little job was done, he began to ready himself for the job.

**1:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"Find a way for this to happen, Rick, or you're out of here," Jackson ordered. "This is important, to my customer and to the case. So just do it."

"Fine, fine," Rick sighed as Jackson hung up.

_So that's taken care of. Now, to figure out something about why Alec seems so familiar. _

He shifted through his files and Alec's work folder. He was a damn good employee, he'd give him that. One hundred and fifty seven jobs that he'd successfully pulled off within the last two years, and only one mishap.

The famous mistake that had almost cost his life and had granted him the dunce title around the organization for eight months.

The first Operation Nolan job.

Alec had been assigned to it the moment it had arose. It was perfect. All he had to do was find Nolan and shoot him. While he was tracking his victim, however, he was 'delayed', distracted.

By a girl.

Luckily he'd had his pseudonym ready. Dan Gregory, high school senior with a working class mom who just happened to secretly carry a loaded pistol everywhere with her.

He'd run into trouble during his tracking when he ran into Rachel Redford. Jackson had scolded Alec heavily on his unprofessionalism in dealing with the situation. _Assassins weren't supposed to fall in love._ Or so he thought, up until he met Lisa. But then, it was a different situation entirely. Alec risked everything from his freedom to his life by chancing a romance with Nolan's niece. At first, Jackson had prided the boy on his cunning, believing that it would be easier for Alec to use Rachel to get to Nolan.

But the fate cards had changed, and Alec was left a lovesick schoolboy. The job was foiled and Jackson, fed up, took matters into his own hands. He sent his men into the coffeeshop that Alec pretended to work at and had them pretend to hold it up. Alec had of course recognized them and jumped to assistance, getting himself shot, of course, by a harmless sedative weapon.

The department at the organization worked on him and within two weeks, he didn't remember Rachel Redford or Christiansen at all. They'd succeeded in wiping that memory from his brain, and Alec was a set killer again.

He just hoped that Alec wouldn't have a relapse and remember 'Dan'. He knew that Rachel had most likely been forced to tell him her sob story—how she'd tragically lost her boyfriend in a shooting—and he prayed that Alec hadn't figured it out already. The mere sight of Rachel was enough to jog his memory, it was bad enough that he was falling for her now.

But that was fine. He could steal her now, make her his forever, that was fine and dandy. But if it got in the way of the job with her uncle, Jackson hated to admit that he'd be forced to kill him.

Which he didn't want to do, because Alec was undoubtedly his one best friend. For some reason, the two clicked. Maybe it was because he'd saved the kid's life.

_"Breathe, dammit!" Jackson yelled as the department worked on Alec. The monitors were whirring and Jackson couldn't help but scream at whomever happened to be closest to him. He didn't know why he cared so much. He didn't even know the kid, for Christ's sake._

_"Mr. Rippner," one of the doctors gasped, snapping him out of his reverie. "We have it! He's stable!"_

_"Good," Jackson snapped, placing the nonchalant mask back over his face. He didn't care. "Now, we need to find the identity of this kid."_

_"And then what? Is he a member of the organization?"_

_"No," Jackson admitted honestly, with a hint of coolness. "But he will be. With some training, he looks highly competent. We'll just need to wipe his mind of his past, in case he's afflicted with morals or something."_

_"Eh…"_

_"What?"_

_"We don't think he'll have any lasting memories as it is, sir," the doctor admitted sheepishly. "He had a severe concussion when we brought him in, and he'll be lucky if he gets any fragment of a memory back within his lifetime. So the memory modification won't be necessary."_

_"Good. We just need to figure out who the hell he is."_

_"His personal belongings are over here, sir."_

_Jackson strode to the small table and sifted through the pile. No wallet, but the backing on his shirt had a set of initials._

_"AR," Jackson said aloud. "That's his monogram."  
"Andy Rodriguez?"_

_Jackson looked around some more and seeing nothing of value, sighed. "We'll have to create a name for this fellow. Alex Roberts. No. Alec Rocher."_

_"That's fine, sir." The doctor buzzed off to the documents written._

_Jackson looked down at the boy asleep in the bed and smiled. "Welcome to the organization, Mr. Rocher."_

Jackson continued to sort through the massive folder, thumbing past the various job completions. His mind drifted to Lisa and his heavy eyelids began to close…

_Jackson cut the engine and eased it up to the curb across from Lisa's house. Her curtains were tightly drawn, but he had cameras and anyway, she wasn't home now. He climbed out and glanced around at her neighbor's homes. Nobody was home. _

_He found the hidden key under the placemat, cursing her dim-wittedness, and let himself in. _

_It was time to look around, for the tiny pieces of information that his distant eye and camera wouldn't pick up. _

_Jackson went first to her movie collection. It was nonsense, as was her cd rack, but her bookshelves weren't bad, once he got past the self-help books. The pages on those were still crisp and plastic-like. She hadn't bothered much with those, he could tell._

_She had an assortment of photographs resting in frames on her shelves. He let his fingers graze them. The family ones were the most important. If he needed to threaten somebody in this operation, they would be it._

_He could tell that she wasn't close with her mother. The frame was turned down shamefully, and he'd tapped her calls, anyway. Only one in a month's time to her mom, about sixty-eight to her father. _

_Jackson looked more closely at a picture on the shelf of her and her brother, he assumed. Their facial structures were a lot alike. He carefully and intricately pulled the photograph out, searching for a label on the back. Oh, yes. _

_**Me and Alex, my dear baby brother, October 3, 2001**._

_He was tall, thin but wiry with a thick shock of blonde hair that fell over one of his piercing green eyes. He cocked his head at the picture-_

"Oh my God!"

Jackson realized.

He realized how he knew Alec.

Typing furiously into his computer, he quickly hacked his way into the news archives and found what he was looking for.

_Alexander Reisert was reported missing on November 22, 2002 at approximately twelve hours after his estimated disappearance. Witnesses claim seeing the twenty-year old Miami, Florida resident running on the street at around eight in the evening. They report seeing a gun in the young man's hand, though these suspicions have not been confirmed. _

_His sister, Lisa Reisert (26), also of Miami, says that her brother walked out of her father's (Joseph Reisert, 69, Miami) home after an argument and has not been seen since. Any news regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Alexander Reisert _

He heard a noise in the doorway and turned.

"Can I go see Rachel?"

"Lisa," he sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "I'm busy. Can it wait?"

"I'm worried about her," Lisa said quietly, playing with the sleeve of her light blue button-down blouse. "She's so young, and if Alec is anything like you, she's not safe."

"I know Alec," Jackson returned to his files. "And trust me. If he does anything to her, it'll be because she pissed him off. And it takes a lot."

"Now, are you basing that on your standards?" Lisa rolled her eyes. "Because that's not a whole hell of a lot, and I'm still uneasy."

Jackson stood up and took her elbows in a comforting gesture. "Leese- calm down. She'll be fine. And Rachel will be leaving here soon, anyway. Alec told me the job will be completed by Wednesday. She'll be safe under her own roof by Thursday at the latest."

He looked at her face then and saw the solid tears zigzagging down her cheeks. "That's not true," she half-whined. "He's not going to let her go."

He rubbed her shoulders. "Come on, now, what are you talking about? Of course he'll let her go."

"I heard them talking today, Jackson," she replied a bit snappishly. "The walls are thin; they're our neighbors. She sold herself to him to save her brother. It was a bet, or something. But he was going to keep her anyway."

"For what?"

"The same reason that you're still here. Companionship."

Lisa's lip curled in disgust. "You men are all sick. I can't believe you. She's _sixteen._"

"And, Lisa, he loves her."

"Love isn't a one-way street. I find it hard to believe that she harbors feelings for him as well."

"She used to."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You heard about the boyfriend who died?"

"She mentioned it but didn't go into detail," Lisa murmured sadly. "But yes."

"That was Alec."

She stared at him. "You've lost it."

"I haven't. That was one of his earlier jobs about a year ago. He messed it up big time when he fell in love with her—he was under the alias of Daniel Gregory, though—and we had to feign his death. With a little work, we wiped her from his memory so that he could come back to work."

Lisa was shaking her head now. "Two weeks ago, before I was here, I wouldn't believe that. But now, for some reason, it makes perfect sense. And that's why he's so obsessed with her?"

"He doesn't know it, but yes. Subconsciously he's being brought back to the Dan/Rachel days and he's trying to get that feeling again by keeping her here and forcing her to love him. Even though, technically, confusing as it is, she still does."

"Are you going to tell her who he really is?"

"I don't think I'm even going to tell him who he really is. Can you imagine how weird that would be, Leese, to hear that the girl you love was the same one you loved before but didn't remember?"

"But Rachel?"

"I don't think she would believe me, anyway. He doesn't look the same, he was disguised when he went up there. Had a fake family and everything."

She sighed. "This still doesn't explain why the hell he looks so familiar to me."

Jackson bit his lip. "If I could tell you, I would."

"You know why?"

"I do. But if I told you, you really wouldn't believe me and besides, you'd try to talk to him somehow about it and he'd be even more distracted."

"Tell me. I have a right to know."

Jackson walked away, ruffling his hair with his fingertips as he poured a glass of water. Lisa grabbed his arm, her eyes fierce.

"I said, _tell me._"

"Okay, Lisa, but don't get angry or do anything stupid," Jackson urged her. "Are you ready? Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm fine. Just tell me."

"Alec Rocher is not Alec Rocher. I'm just figuring this out now, Leese, but I'm certain that I'm right."

"About what?"

"His name is Alex Reisert. Your brother."


	28. When confronted with romantics

A/N-So many updates! I hope you've enjoyed all (nine?) of them. Ha. Reviews would be just darling.

And Happy Belated New Year, btw.

My resolution is to stop making resolutions.

Xx

Rachel emerged from the bathroom with damp hair within an hour, mildly depressed but even more sullen. She glared at Alec as he smirked at her.

"What?"

"Nothing." Her gaze froze even more coldly on him and he sighed, nodding his head distractedly at her as he packed his laptop bag. "The shirt. Blue. It's a nice color."

Her head snapped down to her three-quarter sleeved, v-neck shirt that Alec had picked out in the store a few days ago.

"You should like it. You bought it."

Rachel sat on the couch, but Alec gestured her to her feet. "No time. Come on. You have your jacket? Let's go."

She nodded and followed him out the door, pausing only slightly in the doorway. He rolled his eyes.

"The apartment isn't going to walk away while we're gone, Rach. Now come on."

"If you love me, Alec," she pleaded quietly, reserved, "please don't do this. Please don't kill my uncle. I have no pride left, and I'm begging you."

He shook his head. "This isn't my business, sweetheart. I'm just doing my job." He grabbed her arm and led her to the elevators.

Rachel didn't move the whole way down, but when the doors began to open she pulled herself from his grasp.

"Don't," she whispered.

Alec made no reply, but she noticed his neck and shoulders tense considerably as he led her out to the car.

"Don't bother trying to run."

She looked at him and didn't reply.

"You know I'm faster than you."

Sending a glare in his vicinity, she let him herd her into the car. As she buckled in she noticed Alec sitting silently in his seat. Staring at her.

"What?"

He blinked and sighed, starting the car. "Nothing."

"Okay."

They'd pulled out of the driveway and were nearly there before Alec spoke again. "We're almost there."

"Good."

Sure enough, within five minutes they'd pulled up to a rundown café on the main street. A broken sign hung from the roof that read the Shorebridge Café. Rachel wondered vaguely where the name came from. She saw no shore, and she saw no bridge. But it was a café.

She was trembling badly when Alec cut the engine. _This isn't happening. _She spotted her uncle's clean black BMW parked solitary in a corner. She saw Alec turn to her, his face uncertain.

"What?" she snapped, her voice constricted by the tear in her throat.

"If I had the choice, Rachel, believe me, I wouldn't be doing this."

"It's not just what you're doing that bothers me," she murmured. "It's that you seem to take such pleasure in doing it."

He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and drew her closer to her face. She moaned in pain and tried to pry his tightened fingers from her hair. "Sto-"

"I don't take pleasure in killing people, Rach," he hissed. "I don't take pleasure in it at _all._ Some days, I wonder what the hell I'm doing here. None of this makes sense. I don't even remember _how_ I came to work for this company. Or _me._ I mean, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"I know one thing, though," he said, and suddenly the grip on her neck was lessened. It was still there, an incontrovertible pressure, but suddenly a gentle passion overcame the violent fury.

"What's that?" Rachel was still biting back tears, afraid.

"That something about you is undeniably familiar, but I can't place my finger on it. It's like I knew you once before or something, because right now I have the strangest feeling of de ja vu."

Rachel couldn't help it. She raised a hand to slap him. _He's trying to be romantic. He's trying to gain my trust._

_And I believe him._

_I don't want to believe him._

THW—Alec caught her hand before it hit hard and pinned it to her neck.

He smirked at her. "What was that for?"

"You try, Alec, but you'll never fill me full of your sycophantic bullshit." Rachel clenched her jaw as he said this and he gripped it tightly in his fingers.

His eyes were alight with whimsy and mirth. She detested his playfulness. "It's not bullshit, Rach."

Rachel anticipated his next action. She was getting good at that. She could see when he was going to hit her, when he was going to yell, or, in this case, when he was going to kiss her.

When he moved in, she had her plan all set in her mind. But got distracted by his lips dancing over hers. _I don't like this. _

_I hate it._

_No. _

_I like it._

So, when she acted, it was a little broken due to her uncertainty, not as forceful as she would have liked.

Alec growled into her mouth as she bit down on his tongue and tried to shove him away. Unfortunately, her mouth maneuver appeared as forceful passion and her shove was weakened, her hands grazing his chest.

_It wasn't supposed to be like that. God, what am I doing?_

His tongue slid over hers and his hands encircled her waist and it became very difficult for Rachel to ignore the situation.

Alec was kissing her.

And she was enjoying it.

"What's going on?" she accidentally let the words spill from her mouth and into Alec's. He smiled into her lips.

"I didn't think this needed explaining, Rach," he murmured.

She managed to push him away. He just sat there, touching his mouth and smiling in the same goofy way. "I don't want to kiss you."

"I think you do."

"You're going to kill my uncle in ten minutes. I don't want to kiss you."

"First of all, Rach," he sighed, pulling the keys out of the ignition. _Back into stone-cold killer mode,_ she noted, a bit sourly. "It's not me who's killing your uncle. I didn't arrange this project. I didn't ask for it. I called him, and I watched you. That was my job."

She fell silent. "I want this to be over."

"It won't ever be over. You're in too deep."

"Like I had a choice in anything?"

He stared into her eyes. "On the contrary, Rachel." He wordlessly climbed from the car and took her arm, locking the door behind them.

As they began their trek inside to the café, he leaned over and whispered in her ear,

"You had a choice in everything."


	29. the best thing to do is fight

A/N-So many updates! I hope you've enjoyed all (nine?) of them. Ha. Reviews would be just darling.

And Happy Belated New Year, btw.

My resolution is to stop making resolutions.

1:30 PM

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Xx

Rachel emerged from the bathroom with damp hair within an hour, mildly depressed but even more sullen. She glared at Alec as he smirked at her.

"What?"

"Nothing." Her gaze froze even more coldly on him and he sighed, nodding his head distractedly at her as he packed his laptop bag. "The shirt. Blue. It's a nice color."

Her head snapped down to her three-quarter sleeved, v-neck shirt that Alec had picked out in the store a few days ago.

"You should like it. You bought it."

Rachel sat on the couch, but Alec gestured her to her feet. "No time. Come on. You have your jacket? Let's go."

She nodded and followed him out the door, pausing only slightly in the doorway. He rolled his eyes.

"The apartment isn't going to walk away while we're gone, Rach. Now come on."

"If you love me, Alec," she pleaded quietly, reserved, "please don't do this. Please don't kill my uncle. I have no pride left, and I'm begging you."

He shook his head. "This isn't my business, sweetheart. I'm just doing my job." He grabbed her arm and led her to the elevators.

Rachel didn't move the whole way down, but when the doors began to open she pulled herself from his grasp.

"Don't," she whispered.

Alec made no reply, but she noticed his neck and shoulders tense considerably as he led her out to the car.

"Don't bother trying to run."

She looked at him and didn't reply.

"You know I'm faster than you."

Sending a glare in his vicinity, she let him herd her into the car. As she buckled in she noticed Alec sitting silently in his seat. Staring at her.

"What?"

He blinked and sighed, starting the car. "Nothing."

"Okay."

They'd pulled out of the driveway and were nearly there before Alec spoke again. "We're almost there."

"Good."

Sure enough, within five minutes they'd pulled up to a rundown café on the main street. A broken sign hung from the roof that read the Shorebridge Café. Rachel wondered vaguely where the name came from. She saw no shore, and she saw no bridge. But it was a café.

She was trembling badly when Alec cut the engine. _This isn't happening. _She spotted her uncle's clean black BMW parked solitary in a corner. She saw Alec turn to her, his face uncertain.

"What?" she snapped, her voice constricted by the tear in her throat.

"If I had the choice, Rachel, believe me, I wouldn't be doing this."

"It's not just what you're doing that bothers me," she murmured. "It's that you seem to take such pleasure in doing it."

He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and drew her closer to her face. She moaned in pain and tried to pry his tightened fingers from her hair. "Sto-"

"I don't take pleasure in killing people, Rach," he hissed. "I don't take pleasure in it at _all._ Some days, I wonder what the hell I'm doing here. None of this makes sense. I don't even remember _how_ I came to work for this company. Or _me._ I mean, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"I know one thing, though," he said, and suddenly the grip on her neck was lessened. It was still there, an incontrovertible pressure, but suddenly a gentle passion overcame the violent fury.

"What's that?" Rachel was still biting back tears, afraid.

"That something about you is undeniably familiar, but I can't place my finger on it. It's like I knew you once before or something, because right now I have the strangest feeling of de ja vu."

Rachel couldn't help it. She raised a hand to slap him. _He's trying to be romantic. He's trying to gain my trust._

_And I believe him._

_I don't want to believe him._

THW—Alec caught her hand before it hit hard and pinned it to her neck.

He smirked at her. "What was that for?"

"You try, Alec, but you'll never fill me full of your sycophantic bullshit." Rachel clenched her jaw as he said this and he gripped it tightly in his fingers.

His eyes were alight with whimsy and mirth. She detested his playfulness. "It's not bullshit, Rach."

Rachel anticipated his next action. She was getting good at that. She could see when he was going to hit her, when he was going to yell, or, in this case, when he was going to kiss her.

When he moved in, she had her plan all set in her mind. But got distracted by his lips dancing over hers. _I don't like this. _

_I hate it._

_No. _

_I like it._

So, when she acted, it was a little broken due to her uncertainty, not as forceful as she would have liked.

Alec growled into her mouth as she bit down on his tongue and tried to shove him away. Unfortunately, her mouth maneuver appeared as forceful passion and her shove was weakened, her hands grazing his chest.

_It wasn't supposed to be like that. God, what am I doing?_

His tongue slid over hers and his hands encircled her waist and it became very difficult for Rachel to ignore the situation.

Alec was kissing her.

And she was enjoying it.

"What's going on?" she accidentally let the words spill from her mouth and into Alec's. He smiled into her lips.

"I didn't think this needed explaining, Rach," he murmured.

She managed to push him away. He just sat there, touching his mouth and smiling in the same goofy way. "I don't want to kiss you."

"I think you do."

"You're going to kill my uncle in ten minutes. I don't want to kiss you."

"First of all, Rach," he sighed, pulling the keys out of the ignition. _Back into stone-cold killer mode,_ she noted, a bit sourly. "It's not me who's killing your uncle. I didn't arrange this project. I didn't ask for it. I called him, and I watched you. That was my job."

She fell silent. "I want this to be over."

"It won't ever be over. You're in too deep."

"Like I had a choice in anything?"

He stared into her eyes. "On the contrary, Rachel." He wordlessly climbed from the car and took her arm, locking the door behind them.

As they began their trek inside to the café, he leaned over and whispered in her ear,

"You had a choice in everything."


	30. When the only instruments are minds

**A/N-Sorry to tell you this, but I don't think we're even _close_** **to being done. Which'll be good for all my reviewers who say they love this (btw, guys, you rock) but bad for those people who are reading out of boredom and want it to get the heck over with already. Tee.**

**Hee.**

**2:30 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Xx

Rachel was glaring at Alec as he carted her into the small café and stopped her in the coatroom.

"What?" she glowered, a hand hovering angrily on her hip. "_What_?"

"Coat," he smirked, holding out a hand.

_Oh._ Still seething, she ripped it off and threw it at him. The zipper grazed his lip and the flash of fury over his eyes was gone as soon as it appeared.

"Now, Rach, we're going to do this the right way or we're not going to do it at all," he began.

"I prefer not at all," she snapped.

"Christopher doesn't, though, sweetheart," Alec replied pointedly, hanging the coats on a hook behind him. "Here's how it's going to be: you're going to keep quiet, talk only when spoken to, and _do what I say._ Any misdemeanors on your part mean not only death for your brother but a lengthy continuation on our discussion in the car."

She paused. "I'll kill you. I hate you."

"Doubt it."

Alec took her arm and led her through zigzagging tables to one near the back. He sat her in the booth and pointed out the window.

"See that man?" Rachel gazed out through the rain-coated glass and saw a Renault parked directly in front of them, with a man smoking a thin cigarette at the wheel.

"Yeah. So?"

He stuck his thumb crudely behind his shoulder, back towards the coatroom. "I'm going to go meet your uncle. I can't take you because, Rachel, the coatroom is in direct view of the bar and I can't afford your little shenanigans that could cost some lives."

"You're going to wait here, my Rachel, and if you move a _muscle_ the man in the car will see you and alert me. I'll be waiting at the door with cell phone in hand, ready to make the call to kill your brother. Besides, where I'll be is the only exit. So any attempts to foil the plan will be otherwise futile."

"You sound like a perverted version of a forgotten Disney character," Rachel said, disgusted. "Go."

He left and she was, for once, alone.

Rachel's fingers skipped over the table until they found their way to the sugar packets. And stopped.

She stole a glance out the window at the man in the car. He was lighting another cigarette. _Smoke it up, chimney._

Rachel worked out a strategy in her brain. She had probably five minutes before Alec would be back, in which time she could do something.

She knew she'd probably be caught.

But not until he was back at the table, with her uncle. And then there would be two of them, two against one. Well, two, with the man in the car. But then, three for the Rachel/Fred team, if you counted the unwary bartender.

Time to go.

She split the packets on the table and began to form a word, at the same time signaling the bartender over.

H E L P

The girl at the bar wasn't paying attention, wiping down glasses as she danced to the bad music that was seeping from the jukebox.

Rachel frantically tried to make eye contact. She couldn't get up. She couldn't wave. All she could do was pray that the girl would glance her way.

"Come on," she whispered to herself. Now the message read:

H E L P M E, M A N W A N T S

The girl glanced over, smiled at Rachel. Looked away.

Rachel glanced down again. Now, it was:

H E L P M E, M A N W A N T S T O—

Yes! Yes! The bartender was looking now! She was walking over, and--

The sugar fell in a blinding snowstorm to the floor. Rachel looked up. Alec was glaring at her.

"Having fun, Rachel?" he sneered, pushing her further into the booth. She was now sandwiched on either side by Alec's muscle or the wall.

"I--" The bartender had arrived. She smiled at the two, then glanced at Alec.

"Sir, is she--"

"Underage? No. We're not drinking, though, if you could just bring a few waters, that would be nice." He glanced at her nametag. "Clarise."

She grinned flirtatiously at him. "No problem."

Rachel looked across the table at her uncle. His eyes were red and crusted from lack of sleep and tears.

"Uncle Fred," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please. Just leave now."

"Rachel," Alec scolded, his eyes burning daggers into her own.

"I won't leave you here with this—this _thing_," Nolan insisted, glaring at Alec. "I'd rather die, Rach, sweetheart."

"There will be unnecessary death, Rachel, if you don't quit with the pointless escape attempts and blabbering, however," Alec hissed at her, nodding at the table where a few grains of sugar still lay. "And that conversation back in the car is beginning to become inevitable."

"You know I'm not scared of you," she replied defiantly. "And if that's what it takes for my uncle to li-"

Alec stared piercingly into her eyes, creating a pause that he elongated by stretching his arm across her lap, his hand coming to rest on her knee.

"What conversation?" Nolan questioned worriedly, and then his eyes trailed to where Alec's hand was. "Get your hands off her!"

After a quick, subtle glance at the bar, Alec withdrew his pistol and pressed it against Rachel's abdomen, pulling his hand away and smirking at her uncle.

"They're off, Mr. Nolan, I can assure you."

"Uncle Fred, he's not going to kill me, just please, _leave_, no-"

Alec took hold of her hair and held her inches away from his face. She moaned a bit as his hand tugged her scalp.

"You say one more word and Christopher is _dead_," he menaced, before dropping her. She held her head and leaned against the wall, trying to hold back tears as Nolan looked between the two.

"Christopher? Her brother? Rachel, what's going on?"

"It's all quite the beautiful chain, Mr. Nolan," Alec sneered. "If you don't help her, she dies. If she doesn't do what I tell her, Chris dies. If you don't do exactly as I say, they both die."

_I'll kill you. You fake son of a bi—_

Light footsteps interrupted them. Alec smiled up at the waitress. "Thanks so much. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but we're trying to work out some…_wedding_ details.." he smiled bashfully at Rachel. She forced a loopy grin as the waitress matched it.

"Oh! Congratulations!" but she looked a bit disappointed. "I understand. I'll leave you to your work, then." She bustled away. Alec looked behind him and waved, then nodded out the window.

"What's going on?" Nolan began to panic. "What are you doing? What do I have to do to get Rachel back?"

She cried. Quietly. But she cried.

"Mr. Nolan, I would not like to expose your incredibly sensitive niece to what I must, inevitably, tell you, so you and I are going to take a little drive and Rachel here is going to wait with my friend—don't worry, they've already met, she won't be lonely—and when we're done, my company will release her. I give you my word."

Nolan nodded in concern, his gaze darting to Rachel, then at the man approaching. "He won't touch her? You promise?"

Alec smirked up at Jackson, who arrived and leaned casually on the table. "What do you say, buddy? Do you agree to our friend's terms here?"

"No problem," Jackson sent a wayward grin and glance in Nolan's direction, who cried out in shock at the intensity of his eyes.

_Lord knows, Uncle Fred, Alec's are enough. Maybe initiation into this stupid company is incredibly freaky eyes._

Alec and Nolan walked off, and Rachel stared at his back for five seconds before bursting into tears, collapsing into the wall. Jackson slid across from her.

There was a pause as her cries quieted in volume but not magnitude, and Jackson just watched her.

"You know, Rachel, it really is better this way."

She wiped her face and glared at him. "What way?"

"The way that your uncle will die. Our first plan was a lot more grisly. The way the clients wanted it was prime horror-film material."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel was truly angry, but her curiosity was now rising.

"We tried to kill him before but failed. Apparently, not many people are fans of Mr. Frederick Nolan. Guess, Rachel, who was assigned to the job initially?"

"Santa Clause."

"Close. Alec. _The _Alec. Alec _Rocher._ Blows your mind, doesn't it?"

She shot a disgusted glance at him. "Why are you telling me this? I don't care."

"I think you do, Rach. Alec was supposed to shoot out your uncle's kneecaps--"

_There are plenty of ways to painfully injure a person without killing them, Rachel, _Alec's voice popped back suddenly into her head, and she shook it away.

"Stop telling me!"

"—and then his ankles, his wrists, and, finally, his stomach. We were going to just leave him there to send a big brash message to the government."

Rachel felt sick. "You're an asshole, doing this to me, to us! How can you do something like that and live with yourself?"

"See, then, it's a good thing for you that we ran into trouble along the way. Although I'm sure you didn't think so then," Jackson mused thoughtfully, dramatically, knowing that he had once again grasped Rachel's interest and was toying with her.

"What do you mean?"

"If I recall correctly, you had a little boyfriend about a year ago."

"It's none of your business."

He smiled coyly at her. "I think it is. I know him personally."

"You can't. He's dead."

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he-" Rachel glared at him. "Why are you doing this? You're arguing over something I know for sure and you _know_ that."

"He's not dead, Rachel," Jackson laughed. "He's with your uncle."

"And my uncle is _dead_, thanks to you!"

"Your uncle's not dead yet," Jackson denied, checking his watch. "Alec's calling me when its done so I can meet him."

Rachel fell into silence, trying to forget her interest in Jackson's juvenile behavior. He leaned over the table and whispered, "His name was Daniel Gregory, was it not?"

She looked up. "Yes. Yes, it was. How do you--"

"Know? Rachel, Dan Gregory _was not_ your boyfriend's real name."

"Oh yeah, hot shot?" she leaned back with a raised eyebrow. "If you're so smart then, what was it?"

"Alec Rocher."


	31. and still there's nothing to be done

A/N-Gasp! Can you believe he told her? I totally can't. Even though, you know, I wrote it and all. Cheers. Here's the next one, please r.e.v.i.e.w.!

Xx

**4:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Nolan glanced nervously at the cheerful man, the one from the phone, next to him, and the stranger driving. When the engine was started, the phone man stuck out a pair of handcuffs and waved them in Nolan's face.

Nolan shook his head. "No. No _way_ am I putting those things on."

The man tossed his phone between his hands. "That's fine with me, if you want Rachel to die. I have the number to my guy in the café right here."

Nolan let himself be cuffed. Behind his back.

"Who are you?" Nolan grunted. "What's your name?"

He paused. "Rocher. Alec Rocher, Mr. Nolan."

"You look familiar."

Alec frowned. "Can't imagine why."

They drove in silence to a misty lake fifteen miles from the café. Alec unceremoniously dragged Nolan from the car and set him on the muddy soil. Nolan sat, an anxious anticipation constricting speech.

He finally croaked, "What are we doing? What do I have to do for Rachel?"

The driver got out, twisting a pistol between his fingers. Nolan stared at it.

"You're going to kill me?"

"Eventually, that is the plan," Alec nodded. "But not yet. I have some questions for you first, and I can assure you that if an honest answer—and I can tell—is not the first out of your mouth on each reply, Rachel and Christopher will die. I don't think I need to tell you how, but in Rachel's case, I will add this: the department has been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long, long time."

Nolan's stomach contorted, and he began trembling in the sand. "Just ask the questions."

"Rachel's ex-boyfriend, why did she love him?"

Nolan stared at him, dumbfounded. _You're about to kill me and you ask how my niece's mind works? _"I—I don't know. W-why?"

Alec kicked sand into his face, and Nolan howled as it burned his eyes and scratched his throat. "I wanted an answer, Mr. Nolan, as the politician you are I know you're fully capable of giving an intelligent one."

"His brain," he croaked. "She was always talking about his wit, how smart he was!"  
"Hm," Alec thought. "Ok, then. Moving swiftly along. What's her weakness?"

"Weakness?"

Alec snapped his fingers irritably. "Yes, yes, her fears, her likes, dislikes, ambitions…"

"Well—I—she's afraid of pain--"

"That's a lie," Alec growled. "In the short time that I've known her, she's _never_ cringed when I dole out punishments."

"Not physical," Nolan quickened, though his heart nearly stopped when the word 'punishment' slipped Alec's lips. "Emotional, like. She doesn't want to be hurt like she was when Dan died."

"Her boyfriend."

"Yes, her boyfriend."

"Likes? Dislikes?"

"Well—I—she likes literature, I suppose, and nature? She doesn't like…er…television."

Alec sighed, nodding to the gunman. He cocked the gun. Nolan shut his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Nolan, for the valuable tidbits. I'm sure I'll use them wisely."

"Wise—what?" Nolan shrieked. "You're letting her go!"

The gunman approached, readied his pistol against Nolan's skull. Alec shook his head.

"He hasn't been entirely cooperative, Jonathan," Alec said. "Not the head. He doesn't deserve painless. The stomach."

Nolan winced as the gunman prepared the gun next to his waist. Alec kneeled.

"Any last words?"

"Why did you need to know that stuff about my niece?" he questioned through gritted teeth. Alec smirked at him.

"I'm going to be straight up with you, Fred—yes, all niceties are gone now—I've grown quite smitten with your niece. To be frank, I find her the most beautiful, intelligent, witty, sweet person I've ever met and she _will_ be mine. Unfortunately, as you might imagine, she's not one of my biggest fans and that, my friend, was where the questions came in. Thank you for your assistance. Good bye."

Nolan struggled against his cuffs. "Leave her the _hell alone!_ You promised, you _gave me your word_ that you would let her go!"

Alec smiled, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "I never said that, sir. I said that my _company_ would let her go. There was no mention of me."

He nodded and the shot was fired. Alec and his gunman left Nolan writhing and moaning quietly in the sand as he died a long, painful death.

Alec hopped in the car and let his guy drive as he pulled out his phone.

Before Jackson even spoke, Alec could hear Rachel yelling in the background. _Shit, Jackson, what did you do?_ "It's me, Jackson. What's going on?"

"Oh, em…" Jackson paused, covering the phone and whispering something muffled to Rachel. There was a loud thud and then quiet. "I'll tell you when we meet. When we get back to the apartments, we really, really need to talk. I should have told you sooner."

Alec frowned, already feeling a tad bit guilty about what he'd just arranged with Nolan. "Uh…fine. I'll meet you back at the café. How's Rachel?"

"Upset. Angry. At the moment, sedated."

Alec sighed. "You sedated her?"

"I had to. She was attracting unwanted attention. We're in the car now. Hurry."


	32. It's all coming to a crashing halt

**A/N-Phew. I'm exhausted. It's late. BUT I CAN'T STOP WRITING. **

**5:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Lisa heard her name being shouted from the living room, so she dried her eyes and ran out.

Jackson was back. He'd left shortly after he'd broken the news to her about her brother without a word. Now he was back. She stared as he helped Alec carry in a mildly drugged but extremely angry Rachel.

He had blood trickling from his lower lip and Alec was quickly sprouting a blackened eye. Lisa cocked her head and, ignoring Rachel's condition for a minute, just gazed at Alec.

Alex.

Her brother.

Her brother?

She saw it now. She saw the familiarity. It had been the distortion of his face, the scar, the body that had thrown her off. He was much taller now, more muscular. But still, an idiot could have seen it.

Lisa tried not to let her evolving tenderness show, as Jackson had told her not to mention anything to Alec—x—since he didn't know yet. But it was hard. She blinked back tears and looked to Jackson.

"I need you to get a glass of ice water from the fridge," he panted, trying to keep a stronger hold on Rachel's wrists behind her back.

Lisa blinked, confused.

"Do it, Lisa, now!" he yelled, and she darted to retrieve it.

Jackson struggled with Rachel's arms as Alex tried to keep her moving, to get her restrained on solid ground. She was screaming, tears pouring down her face.

"You killed him! You're supposed to be dead! And you lied, you _lied_ to me, twice!"

Lisa had no idea what she was talking about, and Alex apparently didn't either. She quickly passed the cup to Jackson, who tossed it in Rachel's face. She sputtered, and crumpled to the ground.

Lisa ran over and touched Rachel's shoulder. She flinched under the grip, clutching her face, but when she looked up and saw who it was, she stumbled to her feet and collapsed into Lisa's arms.

Over Rachel's head, Lisa mouthed, "What?" to Jackson. He bit his lip and gestured them to the couch. Lisa side-stepped over, still letting Rachel lean on her.

Alex sat in the arm chair and Jackson supported Lisa's other side. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Rachel."

She ignored Jackson for a minute, raising her head and clenching her jaw.

"I'm sorry about your uncle. But please. I have something important that needs to get out. Leese, you know everything that needs to be said, and Rach, you know half of it. But Alec knows none, and he should."

"I'm lost," Alec threw up his hands in defeat.

Jackson took a deep breath.

"Two years ago, Lisa, was your rape. Correct?"

She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. "Yes. But that was the least of it."

_It seemed to take forever, but then, only a moment before he was done. Before he'd stripped her of her dignity, of her will. With a slash at her chest, he was gone as the sirens began to wail. Lisa tried to get to her feet, to grab her shopping bags—"No, I'm fine, really, it's fine"—and get back to her car, but she was weak. She hurt. The blood spilled from her wound and released a dizzying pain inside her skull._

_She collapsed._

_When she came to, she was surrounded by a white curtain and a beeping monitor. _

_She was soaked in sweat and the nurse bustled to her side, jabbing a thermometer into her mouth. Lisa forced it out._

"_No—really, I'm fine. I just…my dad's having dinner at his house tonight, I haven't seen my brother in a month, I need to--"_

"_Ma'am, are you aware of what happened?"_

_She paused. "Yes, yes I…I know."_

"_Are you in pain, any at all?"_

_Lisa thought. No. Not any more. _

_She broke down. _

"_Sh," the nurse embraced her. The touch frightened Lisa, brought her back to the last person who'd touched her, and she reeled backwards, sobbing. The nurse stared sympathetically at her._

"_Honey, do you have a number? Somebody we can call for you?"_

"_N-no."_

"_I thought your dad, your bro--"_

"_I'm fine. Do I need to sign anything to be released, or can I…?"_

"_Actually," the nurse interjected, nodding at the doorway. "If you're up to it, the officer here would like to ask you a few questions, help to catch the man who did this to you."_

"_Do I have to?" Lisa murmured, brushing back hair from her tearstained cheeks. She didn't want to go through this again, didn't want to have to relive the trauma. She glanced down at her chest. A thick gauze bandage was wrapped over the cut. _

_The nurse caught her gaze. "You're going to be fine. We'll be sending you home with some extra tape, gauze, and painpills and you'll have to come back in to have it stitched. But as for the legal business, I'd highly recommend it. Not just for your own personal justice, Ms. Reisert, but for his future victims. They might not all be as lucky as you."_

How am I lucky? _Lisa thought. _I'm alive, sure, but at the moment I'd rather be dead.

"_Fine," she sighed. "Send him in."_

_Three and a half stressful and painful hours later, Lisa opened the door to her father's house in the same dirty clothes, carting her personal belongings and the medicinal items from the ER in a plastic tote. She shut the door quietly behind her and stepped into the dark, warm, familiar house. It was late, past midnight, and she felt terrible for missing the dinner. Her father would be furious._

_Right now, her only thought was on the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. She needed a drink badly, needed to wash away the memories. As ice from the refrigerator clanked into a cup, she heard a voice behind her and the light clicked on._

_Lisa nearly died with fright, but as she spun around, she saw it was only her brother, Alex._

"_Where the hell have you been?" he growled quietly, nodding upstairs. "Dad and I were worried out of our minds!"_

"_I… I got caught up," she whispered. _I can't tell them, _she reasoned inwardly._ I've done all they can, they'll just worry and be angry._ "I'm sorry."_

"_Lisa—goddamnit, you're such a fucking brown-noser at the hotel, always wanting to please people, but you can't show up for a goddamned family dinner?" he cried. "Jesus Christ, where do your priorities lie?"_

"_I'm your older sister, Alex," Lisa warned. "You have no right to yell at me like this. It was out of my control." She reached for the cabinet again._

_He stretched out an arm, blocking her escape. "So you can drink Dad's vodka but you can't show up for a dinner?"_

_Lisa paused, her gaze leveling on her brother and her eyes filling up with tears. Her voice fell to a whisper. "I was raped, Alex. Look at me. Tell me it's not obvious."_

_He stared at her, sinking to his feet and taking a whistling breath. He wrapped his arms around her. "God, Leese," he murmured. "My God—I'm so—if I had known—I'm so, so sorry…"_

"_It's not your fault," she muttered into his shirt. "It was mine—I was stupid--"_

"_When?" he questioned. "When did it happen?"_

"_This afternoon, at the store. Outside. In the—the parking lot." She touched her chest, the cut, and Alex shook his head. Now he was angry. _

"_Who?" he asked, his voice growing louder. "Who the hell did this? I'll kill them. I will hunt them down and kill the sick bastard."_

"_I don't know," she replied softly. "The police are looking. That's where I've been. It doesn't matter. It's too late now, anyway."_

_But Alex was gone. Lisa called after him, but he was pulling out of the driveway in her car, his tires squealing on the road. _

"_Don't," she whispered, long after he was gone. "Don't do something you'll regret. Even if it's for me."_

_She never saw him again. _

"No, I can't…" Alec shook his head in confusion. "I can't be your brother. I would _remember_ that. I don't even know you!"

"Alec," Jackson muttered. "Look at her. Don't try and tell me that you don't see a resemblance, that she doesn't look the least bit familiar."

"Well…" he ruffled his hair. "Why don't I remember this?"

Jackson bit his lip before continuing. "You were in an accident."

_Alex stalked out of the car, marched to the store. He slammed inside and looked around._

"_You." He pointed to the cashier. She jumped._

"_Y-yes?"_

"_Were you here this afternoon, around three-ish, working?"_

"_I…er…yes," she stuttered nervously, tucking a red lock behind her ear. "Can I help you with something?"_

_He flipped open his wallet to reveal Lisa's picture. "This is my sister. She was attacked this afternoon outside of your store. Do you recall seeing anybody talk to her?"_

"_Oh—I remember her. She was the nice girl. Helped an older lady with her groceries and talked to me for quite a while. Anybody talk to her? I did. The lady did. Oh, and a man, outside, he talked to her, and they went off together."_

"_Did he appear threatening?" Alex gritted his teeth. "Did he have a weapon?"_

"_The police already--" she sighed, seeing that he wouldn't let her off the hook that easily. "I didn't see a weapon, no, but she had a very worried expression on her face when they walked away. I know what happened, sir, and I'm sorry."_

"_You probably did this already, ma'am, but could you please tell me what he looked like?"_

"_Tall, a bit over weight with bright red hair and a beard. I'm sorry. That's all I remember."_

"_Thank you, so much," and then he was gone, stalking back off to his car._

_The engine wouldn't start and he swore at it, pounding the steering wheel as the engine buzzed sweetly in reply and fizzed out. _

_As Alex turned the key repeatedly, he felt a person tapping the back of his car and then walking up. Figuring it was the cashier to tell him more, he stepped out._

"_Come back for more, sweethea-" as the redheaded man's face caught Alex's livid countenance, he stepped backwards. "Oh."_

"_So you're the asshole that hurt my sister," Alex stepped closer to the man. "Let me ask you a few questions. Why? Why her? Do you even know who she is? Do you realize that you've ruined her life?"_

"_Dude, I just—she was hot. Get over it. She will, too," the guy smirked at Alex, and Alex felt a surge of angry testosterone ripple through his veins._

_He ran for him, blindly pounding with fists. The man ran. Alex followed him down a narrow alleyway between the store and an apartment building, yelling threats at him. _

_He advanced on him and began to hit him in the face. As blood poured from the rapist's nose, Alex started to feel relief in this revenge for his sister._

"_How do you like it, being hurt?" Alex yelled. "Being scarred?"_

_The man pushed him off. Alex rolled to his feet and wasn't prepared as the much larger man grabbed a large metal pipe from the ground and slammed it into Alex's head._

_He fell. The man crouched over him, his booze-riddled breath storming Alex's face. The twenty-year old drifted from consciousness and the man's knife loomed before his face. Without speaking, he sliced Alex from his temple to his lip. Alex was glad that he didn't feel it above the attacking blackness._

"_I don't like it nearly as much as you will," the man muttered, before laughing and rising. Alex felt a swift kick to the stomach and then he was gone. _

"How do you know this?" Jackson questioned bemusedly. Alec rubbed his head.

"I—I don't know! It's all coming back, though!"

Jackson had only known of Alex's injuries, Lisa knew. He had begun stating how he had found her brother, and Alex had filled in the blanks. It amazed her.

"So, you found me," Alex finished. "What did you do? Why did you help? We aren't trained to."

"I felt a little bad, I'll admit," Jackson sighed.

"Thought we weren't supposed to have consciences." Alex smirked.

_I wonder how you feel right now. About your killing. If you're slowly returning to the old Alex I knew, my sweet baby brother, you'll be soon embarking on one hell of a guilt trip. And Rachel. When will you remember her? _

"Yes, well…" Jackson shrugged. "I took you back here, got you fixed up, and tried to figure out your identity from your wallet. I made up a name. Alec Rocher. I was pretty damn close, too."

"I can't believe you named me after a frickin' candy," Alex snapped. "I always thought I just had truly asinine parents up until now." His gaze faltered on Lisa and she half-smiled at him.

"So you're my sister," he murmured, grinning.

"And you're my brother," she hung her head, suddenly embarrassed. "Thank you, by the way, for trying…you know…"

He shrugged bitterly. "It would have been better if I had succeeded." With a sigh, he turned to Jackson. "So, are we free to go, then? Dinner tonight, correct?"

"Ah…actually…" Jackson held up an uncomfortable hand. "There's more."

Alex nodded. "Why am I not surprised?"

"One of your first assignments, about a year ago," he began, speaking directly and solely to Alex now. _I guess Rachel knows._ "Was in a small town in northern New York." Jackson glanced at Rachel. "Christiansen, New York."

Alex's gaze snapped to Rachel's. "Wait a minute--"

"You went undercover on the alias of Daniel Gregory so that you could kill Frederick Nolan." Rachel was crying now. Lisa wondered why, but figured it had been the lies that had done her in. Sure, it was great that she'd been reunited with her "dead" boyfriend, but she probably was feeling that everything, even back then, had been a lie.

Alex stood, shaking his head nervously. "No, this can't be true! I can't be Rachel's _dead boyfriend._ I'm alive, if you haven't noticed, and--" he filtered off for a moment. "I didn't—did I—was all my alias work as her boyfriend a lie? Did I lie to her?" Lisa noticed the concern in his face, and it touched her in a strange way that he had feelings for the girl.

Jackson shook his head. "No. She originally had nothing to do with it. You were going to murder her uncle and get out. But while you were watching him, you accidentally met his niece. Rachel. You were getting too involved and it was ruining the assignment, so we brought you back and wiped her from your mind."

Alex paused, his face contorting angrily. "You _what?_ How could you do that?"

"I second that," Rachel grumbled.

"It was easier this way," Jackson replied calmly. "Alex, how would you like being held against your will down in Florida while your girlfriend was back in New York? And Rachel, would you really want to be dating an assassin?"

"It would be better than thinking he was dead!" she yelled, also rising.

Jackson looked helplessly to Lisa. "Leese? You got anything to add?"

"While I applaud your astonishing show of masculinity and dominance a year ago in making that decision, I'm going to agree with Rachel and Alex here that you were a heartless bastard in doing so," she shrugged. "Sorry. No hard feelings, though."

Alex glowered for a few minutes. He looked very strongly like he was trying to restrain hitting Jackson, most likely because he knew Jackson would kill him (or more likely, have him killed) if he tried. "So, what now? Can I quit, at least? I don't want to keep _killing_ people. Not if I have a life, a _normal_ life in Miami. I can go home with Lisa, and Dad, and I'll bring Rachel--"

"Hold on, hot shot," Jackson interrupted. "First of all, Lisa is staying with me."

"Does she have a choice in the matter?" Alex raised an eyebrow. "Because now that I know she's my sister, if I find out you're holding her against your will, I'll have to kill you and face the consequences."

Jackson smirked. "You won't kill me. No matter how mad or resentful or doubtful of my morality right now you may be, I'm still your best friend."

Alex crossed his arms. "Just tell me." He looked at Lisa. "Is he?"

Lisa shrugged, and met Jackson's eyes. "At first, it definitely seemed that way. But I'm kind of getting used to it. The apartment is nice."

"Thanks a lot," Jackson grumbled.

"Plus, there's the whole 'Dad's—in—jail—because—Jackson's—dumbass—employee—framed—him' problem, and how if I go home it will make matters worse for both of us," Lisa added with a sigh, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"Dad's in jail?" Alex blinked. "Why the hell is he in jail?"

"Like I said, Jackson's bimbo framed him," Lisa explained patiently. "As my accomplice. In killing Keefe. Which I _didn't_." She looked irritably at Jackson. He smiled at her.

"Ok, wow, I need to sit back down," he did so, but took Jackson's spot on the couch, moving Lisa down so he could sit next to Rachel. She backed away from him and refused to look into his eyes.

"Which leads to my next point, Alex," Jackson twirled his tongue uncomfortably around the foreign name. "You can't go home. Lisa and Joe had you recorded as dead. When you go marching around saying you're Alex Reisert, you'll either get locked up in an asylum or plopped into the jail with your dad because they could blame you, too."

"God," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So what can I do? I'm sorry, but I'd rather not keep on killing people."

"You did it before," Jackson reminded him.

"That was before I remembered what kind of a person I used to be," Alex sighed. "What I used to have."

Jackson thought, then gestured grandly as he presented his idea. "You could work alongside me."

"You kill people."

"No, I don't. I arrange the murders."

"That still doesn't sound all that pleasant."

"It's that, asylum, jail, or actually doing the killing," Jackson reminded him. "Or death. Think of it this way—if you stay, you can still have Rachel."

"So I'm a bargaining point?" Rachel snapped in disgust. Lisa jumped, forgetting she was there. Rachel rose to her feet. "Like an animal? Oh, that's rich, Jackson, really."

"Sweetie--" Lisa reached out for her, but Rachel ripped away.

"This isn't fair!" she cried. "I want to go home! I don't care if Alec isn't who I thought he was, it makes no difference! It just proves how much of a gullible idiot I am that I got fooled _twice_ by him."

Lisa felt terrible, and the same look was mimicked on every face in that room.

"Rachel, I never wanted to hu--" Alex began, standing, but Rachel shoved away and ran into the bathroom.

All three fell silent, Alex's hands limply smacking against his thighs as they fell.

"I don't want to let her go," he muttered.

"You have to," Lisa answered quietly. "She's a person."

"She'll be dead inside either way, Lisa," Jackson told her, a bit grumpily. "She's just been told that not only was her dead boyfriend alive, but that when they'd dated it had all been lies. On top of that, her uncle was just murdered by said boyfriend."  
"Yeah, its got the irony of having a pen jammed in your throat after getting all cocky with a hotel manager," Lisa mused, glancing thoughtfully at Jackson. He scowled at her, rubbing the sore spot.

"I don't know what to do," Alex sighed. "I want her more than _anything_ and I can change. She knows I'll change. Back to what I used to be."

"Alex, it's going to take time if she ever works up the trust she had for you back when you were Dan. Because right now, as she sees it, you lied to her then and you're lying to her again."

"But I wasn't," he groaned. "I didn't know!"

Jackson shrugged. "Personally, I wouldn't let her go. If she starts blabbing to the police about the location of HQ and the like, we're in trouble. And then we would have to kill her."

Alex scowled. "So I don't have a choice then? Why did you lead me on?"

"To make you feel like you had free will."

"Ah."


	33. and it seems like the end of angst

A/N-I'm sorry the last chapter was so painstakingly long, but there was a lot of plot detail that needed to get out before I could move on with the actual story. Thanks for bearing with me, ladies!! (Or, if there are any guys on here, which would be astonishing…. )

Xx

**6:30 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist and sobbed quietly in Lisa and Jackson's small bathroom.

She couldn't just get her mind around the fact that Dan was _alive._ Moreover, he killed her uncle, kidnapped her, and had fallen back in love with her.

It sounded like a bad soap-opera. Not a real person's _life._

She couldn't deny that she harbored some very strong intimate feelings for Alec. Dan. Alex.

Rachel hit the wall. "GOD!"

_What am I supposed to DO? I hate this man, he killed my uncle, but then…I want him. I want to be his._

_I want to be happy._

_If you stay here, _she told herself, _you'll have Lisa to keep you company. And maybe Alec—x—will change, now that he knows who he really is. Maybe he'll be Dan again._

Am I fooling myself? She wondered. Am I delusional in my theory?

"At least get to know him," she muttered thoughtfully to herself. "Get to know this man, Alex Reisert….

"…maybe he's different than you thought."

**6:50 PM**

Jackson was astounded that Rachel came out of the bathroom on her own without any coaxing. Her face had softened considerably and she looked ready to deal with the situation.

_It's amazing,_ he mused silently. _You get some women, like Leese, who after they're done falling apart, still are useless. Then you get the ones like Rachel who have a little fit and then are ready and raring to go._

Alex glanced at her, then back at Jackson, nodding. "Dinner?"

"We'll meet at the elevator at eight o'clock."

Rachel looked up. "We're leaving here?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes at her. "Provided that we can trust you." He glanced at Lisa as well. "And you, Leese. It's a little tradition that Alex and I have, going out on Christmas Eve. We wouldn't like to break it."

Rachel nodded, looping her hands in front of her.

Alex bid goodbye to Lisa and Jackson before he led Rachel back to his (_our, _she tried to persuade herself, _our_) apartment.

Coughing, he looked awkwardly into her eyes. "I think we need to talk."

Rachel stiffened. "I thought we needed to get ready."

"This is part of it."

She sighed and perched awkwardly on the couch. He sat down next to her, twisting his fingers awkwardly on his lap for a few minutes before he finally spoke. "I need to tell you something, Rachel, and I'm going to be completely honest with you. All I ask is that you let me finish before you speak and that you trust me."

"What do you mean, trust you?"

"I'm not going to lie," he repeated. "I promise. And you need to realize that."

She exhaled. "Fine."

"When I started this job, of kidnapping you, I invested nothing in it. I saw it pointless, I didn't see the meaning of killing your uncle, nor did I see the point of kidnapping you. Why should we steal you away when it would be just as easy to go in and shoot Nolan during a social outing?

"But then, Rach, I started to watch you, as per Jackson's request. Things changed then. I saw something different in you, a glow, if you wish, that I'd never seen before. A familiarity, and it had me hooked. I became obsessed."

Rachel stared at him, horrified. "How is this supposed to make me feel better?"

He held up a hand, grinning slightly in annoyance. "You didn't let me finish."

"Sorry."

"No problem. Anyway. I devoted all of my time to watching you because it seemed as if there was nothing else _to_ do. I kept trying to work out in my head what it was that was so damned great about you, but couldn't pick it out. Sure, you're beautiful, witty, intelligent, all that plus a bag of chips but there was _something else there._

"Believe me, Rachel, if I had known then what you were to me, what you _are_ to me, I would never have put you through this. I'm not known for being a sensitive guy. I never have been. I kill. I steal. I hurt people for my satisfaction, moreover, it's my _job._ I couldn't give that up now. I can't. I don't have a choice, but I don't think I'd be able to adjust from the hardened murderer that I am, anyway.

"But all I can ask you is to give me a chance. I'm a loser. I'm a dumb-ass jerk with no life but this jerk _loves you_, has loved you for over a _year_ without being able to tell you, hell, without even _knowing_ because he was brainwashed.

I don't have anything to offer you except me. And, well, stability of some sort. You don't have to work here. You don't have to do _anything._ I just want you by my side, with me, loving me and not angry. I can be who I used to be. You see me, now, it's already coming back. I don't even care what you call me. You'll have Lisa, she'll be here, and you'll have me, and Jackson. He's nice when you get to know him, trust me. Maybe even, when things get better, I'll let you call home. Really. All I want is you. Because I love you." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Okay. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Rachel had tears brimming in her eyes and she swabbed them away. "It's just so hard to _trust you_," she whispered. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"What I said," he began honestly, "is the truth. I would never willingly hide anything from you. Jackson did that, and he only did it to protect our feelings, and our lives. And later, Rach, when you were in the bathroom, he told me that the reason I had been assigned this project was to be reunited with ," she whispered. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"What I said," he began honestly, "is the truth. I would never willingly hide anything from you. Jackson did that, and he only did it to protect our feelings, and our lives. And later, Rach, when you were in the bathroom, he told me that the reason I had been assigned this project was to be reunited with _you._ He didn't think that what we had should go to waste."

That did it. Now she was sobbing, collapsing into her hands. Alex rushed to her and wrapped himself around her shoulders. "Sh, sweetheart," he muttered into her hair.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Please. Don't ever do this to me again."

"I won't," he assured her nobly. "I can promise you that."

With that, Rachel noted, things began to fall back into place.


	34. Pain can turn to changes

A/N:I hope that you all are liking the way things are shaping up. However, I still have at least seven more chapters planned before its over. The drama has barely begun….kind of. Cheers!

**7:30 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Lisa stood completely stationary in the shower, feeling her muscles relax as the borderline scalding water made a tapping pattern down her shoulders. She didn't move anything except her head, which she tipped back to enjoy the water even more.

"I love the shower," she murmured to herself, finally breaking her vow of stillness and squeezing a dollop of shampoo to lather into her hair. She broke into a hum. "I love the shower…"

"Lisa!"

She rinsed her hair and with a flick of the wrist flipped off the dial. Rolling her eyes, she shouted back through the door to Jackson.

"What?"

"Are you done already? You've been in there for over half an hour, I still need to get in!"

_At least he didn't say—_

"God, save some for the fishes!" Lisa laughed quietly to herself and began to towel-dry.

"Lisa!"

"I'm coming, geez," she dressed, still shaking her head in disbelief at Jackson's anally compulsive manner. _Maybe that's why he gets frustrated so easily. Because he's a control freak._

_And maybe that's why he annoys me._

Lisa threw open the door with bravado, a little irritated at having her moment of peace disturbed. She heard the tell-tale holler that rudely informed her that Jackson had been standing directly behind it.

He let out a stream of curse words as he hobbled to the bed. Lisa chuckled at him before dragging the brush through her hair.

"Oh, poor baby stubbed his toe," she crooned, beginning to turn back into the bathroom for her makeup bag.

"Lisa!" She turned. He glared at her and pointed to his foot. "Look what you did!"

"It's a bruis--" she took a closer look and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. Running to the medicine cabinet, she grabbed some gauze and medical tape, along with a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. On a second thought, she flung the hand-towel from beside the sink over her shoulder as well.

"Shit, Jackson," she murmured, sinking onto the bed next to him. She dragged a small chair from the desk in the corner over and propped his foot up on it.

The nail on his big toe was almost completely torn off and blood pooled around not only the affected area but half of his foot as well. Droplets of blood made a path from the door all the way to the bed, and it was still oozing.

"Jesus Christ," Jackson winced as she unceremoniously decanted a bit of the alcohol onto his foot.

"Shut up and sit still." Lisa cleaned the area, Jackson grumbling obscenities under his breath all the while, before gently bandaging it. He glared at her, temporary loath radiating from under his heavy eyelids.

"Have I mentioned lately how much you suck?"

"This, Jack, compared to tossed down a flight of stairs," Lisa rolled her eyes, wondering why she'd helped in the first place, before returning the medical appliances to their homes and tossing the bloodied hand towel in the hamper.

"Funny." He sighed.

"I'm sorry, by the way," she said difficulty, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jackson paused for a moment before looking up at her. His harsh gaze softened. He fed her a half-smile before attempting to stand. He grimaced. "It's fine. The door's heavy. Could've happened to anybody."

"Yeah, especially somebody stupid." Jackson cocked his head sardonically at her as she smirked, and she added, "That's what you get for stalking me when I'm in my happy place, Jackson. At least now you've learned your lesson."

"Your 'happy place'?" he frowned in disbelief, obviously trying not to laugh. "What the hell is that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. A concept my dad made up a couple of years ago. Whenever I would get agitated or upset by anything at all, he told me just to do something I liked and zone out. My happy place. That place for me is in the shower, or with a good book." Pausing, she continued with, "Don't you have a happy place, Jackson?"

He shrugged. "Probably only happy people have happy places."

Lisa cocked her head in concern. "You're not happy?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to be."

"Allowed by whom?"

"You."

"You can be happy," Lisa whispered. "I never said you couldn't be."

"Admit it, Lisa," Jackson turned to the bathroom. "You still have at least an ounce of resentment towards me. That resentment turns into a small drive for revenge. You wouldn't want me to do well."

"That resentment is written out by the other thing," Lisa shook her head, wondering what in the world she was saying.

Jackson paused. "'Other thing'?"

She fooled with her hairbrush for a minute before turning to the closet and shaking her head. "It's nothing. Never mind."

He leaned on the doorway, watching her walk. "Tell me. Please."

Temporarily shocked by his final use of manners, Lisa glanced at him. "You—you probably won't care."

"Try me."

"I…I think I'm starting to love you," she said slowly, her tongue elongating each word.

She heard the door shut and sighed, figuring that he'd been annoyed with her conclusion and had gone off to his shower. She turned just as Jackson wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

Lisa didn't have time to say a word before his lips joined hers in an embrace.

Jackson pulled away for only a second, those mildly swollen lips pulling into a grin. "What a coincidence."

She smiled somewhat drunkenly back. "Not necessarily."

He moved to kiss her again, but she held a hand to his chest and stopped him. "It's late, Jackson. The dinner."

He swore quietly before biting his lip in annoyance. "You're right. Rain check?"

Smiling, she moved back to the closet door, feeling his eyes follow every curve of her body. It thrilled her like she had never thought it would. "You bet."


	35. when the changes turn to pain

A/N—Just for reference, the toe idea in the last chapter was inspired by a true incident that happened to me a few weeks ago (except I'm obviously not Jackson). Let me tell you, it hurts like hell.

**Ok, done minor exposition. I hope you like this next chapter, please review!!**

**7:50 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Rachel took a last glance in the mirror before setting the plastic comb on the sink. Sighing, she frowned at her reflection with mild distaste. It wasn't that she didn't necessarily liked how she looked, it was that she didn't like how she felt. Sleepy, confused, mildly depressed.

She used as much of the makeup as Alex gave her to try and mask the dark circles ringing her eyes, giving her a raccoon-like appearance but the exhaustion was still evident in her eyes. Running a hand through her damp waves, Rachel bit her lip to hold back the moan of anxiety.

Her stomach growled suddenly, jolting her out of her session of self-pity. With a start, she realized that she hadn't eaten anything except for half of a stale bagel and a few spoonfuls of some cheap Easy Mac that Alex forced into her. The nausea that had been battling with her system for the past three days had finally dissipated some, to her utmost relief.

Alex knocked on the door, making her jump nervously. Her elbow shoved the comb directly into the sink, where it clattered and dodged awkwardly around the drain. She heard a chuckle. "Everything okay in there?"

"It's just peachy." She twisted open the doorknob and bit the bullet.

Alex didn't say a word as Rachel pushed past him, quickly dumping her soiled clothes into the hamper in the closet. She heard his breath catch and mentally she angrily willed him to say something.

She felt his eyes on her as she pulled her old jewelry from the dresser. Her locket holding pictures of her parents, her mildly tarnished dew-drop earrings. On they went and nary a word from the man behind her. She heard him cough and draw closer as she slid the last earring through her earlobe.

Alex was suddenly behind her and when he drew his long fingers around her neck she jumped, and tensed in fear. _What did I do now?_

"Sh," he whispered in her ear. She felt a silver chain being pulled loosely around her neck. He latched it and let it fall. Rachel turned to him as he released her but remained in close proximity. She slid the necklace between her fingers and looked up at him.

The monogram AR emblazoned the sparkling silver circle resting placidly on her chest.

"Alex, I--"

"I want you to wear it," he nodded. "It was my mother's."

This came as a surprise to Rachel, and she looked at it again. "But it says--"

"Her initials were AR, too, when she was married to my father," he explained. "This was a wedding present to her from him. Her name was Adriana."

"Adriana," Rachel slid the words through her lips. "That's pretty."

"No," he stepped closer, lifting her chin with his forefinger. She tried hard not to tremble. "You're pretty." Rachel shook her head.

She had known this would happen. He'd told her to dress up, and she'd only bought one nice thing when he'd taken her shopping. It was a knee-length maroon dress with a butterfly collar and floating sleeves, a black sash at her waist. She felt self-conscious. She never wore skirts or dresses because she wasn't a huge self-supporter. Apparently, though, Alex liked it and that was why she worried.

She tugged at the chain. "I'm sorry, Alex, but I can't wear this. It's your mother's, and she never knew me. You should keep it, or maybe Lisa."

"No," he shook his head, smiling. "Jackson gave this back to me tonight. When you were in the shower I went over. Lisa had began holding onto it when I disappeared, but supposedly my mother gave it to her son for the girl he wanted to marry."

Rachel froze. _He wants to…no. I can't. Not even in the future because it's just not logical._ "I can't marry you, Alex," she murmured. "I'm sixteen."

"I'm not asking you to," he chuckled quietly. "Not now, anyway. But one day, hopefully not too far in the future, you will be mine. You're the girl I want to marry."

Rachel trembled under his hands on her shoulders. "I don't even know you."

"Yes, you do. I'm the same person I was a year ago, Rachel. You know that."

"Except you kill people," she jerked away from him, covering her face with her hands just as tears formed.

Alex grabbed her wrists away from her head and pushed her to the wall with his body. Rachel winced as the impact rattled her body. Her face fell. "And that," she whispered.

His eyes flashed. "You always make me do this," he hissed. "Why does it always come to this?"

"Because you're a sadist," she snarled back. "You'd only want me if I'm totally compliant. And I won't be, because you're a _kidnapping, spiteful murderer._"

"Look at she who's so high and mighty, tossing around judgments," Alex growled. "Just for your files, I'd want you either way. I expect your resistance and trust me, babe, I've planned ahead. But you'd _think_ that after all the bitching and moaning you did after I 'died' you'd be a little more warm and welcoming."

"How can I be expected to love a man who's lied to me at least twice?" Rachel yelled. "I'm not joking, Alex. I don't even know what the hell to call you! None of this is conventional. When I cried for Dan I cried for _Dan._ Not Alex, and certainly not Alec. I want what I had then, but without the lies and without what I'm going through now."

"You want the easy lane," Alex muttered. "There is no easy way in this, there's no easy way in anything that's meant to be. Do you think any great couple in the history of humankind has ever had it easy? No. Because you have to work to achieve something good. That's life, Rachel, so get used to it. I may be back to my old self, but for crying out loud, don't go flinging around remarks saying how I should be less violent, more normal now that I remember my identity. Because you didn't know me. I've always been stubborn, I've always used whatever methods available to achieve what I want, I just was a little more set in my morals."

She slapped him in the face, her palm making a loud smack that ricocheted off the walls and resonated in her ears. _Oh shit. What have I done? I did it again. God, why do I keep having to piss him off?_

Alex held up his hands in defeat, his face reflecting anger and tension but mostly amusement and quittance. He began to walk away, his hand rubbing his face, but halfway to the bathroom he stopped and spun around.

Rachel had no time to think before he began striding rapidly back across the room towards her. She tried to dodge him, expecting a blow as he raised his hand inches from her face. Tensing, she closed her eyes in dreadful anticipation as the hand came to rest firmly on her neck.

Alex pressed her tightly to the wall as he kissed her ardently. Rachel's knees slid from underneath his, but he caught the small of her back with his hand and supported her. _Support._

Part of her was screaming to get this foreign invader off of what belonged to her and her alone, but the rest was molding into his warm chest, his lips, wanting to regain what he had stolen from her a year ago.

Her sanity.

Rachel's hands moved solely and pushed him roughly in the chest. He stumbled backwards and stared at her. _I love you._ "I DON'T LOVE YOU, ALEX!"

He blinked, and his face partially crumpled, like he was about to cry. Rachel's stomach twisted into thousands of tiny knots and her lips pointed downwards as well.

Alex attempted to contort his obvious despair into nonchalance. He twisted his frown into a sneer that chilled Rachel to the core. Now she was deeply regretting what she'd said. She shrank into the corner, drawing her fists up to her chest in a weak fighting stance.

"You know what, Rachel?" he stepped closer, hissing in her face. "I can work around that."

He stalked off then into the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind him. A vase fell from a stand nearby and shattered. Rachel sank into the corner, sobbing into her palms. She felt like the vase. Shattered.

_Why did I do that? Why? _


	36. An explosion is inevitable

**8:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

The smirks that Lisa and Jackson shared as they meandered down the corridor to the elevator were soon met with the noncommittal scowls that Rachel and Alex shot at each other.

Jackson blinked at his friend, his eyes asking the question _what?_ Alex glowered and shook his head. Shifting his gaze to Rachel, he saw her eyes glossy with retracted tears and a patchy flush working its way up her face. _She's been crying. What could they possibly have fought about now?_

He glanced down at Lisa, only to find her already moving off to talk to Rachel. He rolled his eyes and grinned. _They're like magnets, they have to do everything together. Including riding in elevators._

Alex punched the down button with surprising vindictiveness, even for him. Lisa stared at him, reaching for Rachel, who stood between the two. Alex jerked her away from Lisa's grasping fingertips, hugging the girl tightly to his side. She struggled against him.

"Let. Me. Go." She hissed.

Alex sneered quietly at her. "You made a deal, Rachel. Don't forget that. Nothing's changed."

"Alex," Lisa snapped, staring at him. He bristled at her scolding. _Like a little boy being chastised by his big sister,_ Jackson noticed, trying to pull in a laugh. He snorted. Everybody glared at him. He shrugged apologetically.

Rachel spun from Alex's grasp, landing against Lisa's shoulder. Lisa took an assertive but comforting hand on her arm.

The elevator doors open, and the four bustled in. Jackson was curious as hell as to what was occurring between Rachel and Alex.

Alex muttered to Rachel, and she yelled at him, "God, Alex, get _over_ yourself already!"

"Like I haven't heard that before." The green eyes rolled again. Jackson pressed his face against the elevator wall, desperate to not burst into hysterics. _They sound way too much like an old married couple. God. I definitely need to get out more._

Lisa slapped his neck, seeing through his scheme. He pecked her on the cheek, and she blushed, but slapped him again. He smirked.

They landed in the office and Jackson led the other three to his BMW. Lisa motioned to sit with Rachel in the back, but Jackson and Alex would have none of that. Jackson took Lisa's arm and ushered her into the front. She sighed weightily, something which Alex duly noted.

"She's my girlfriend, Lisa," he snapped. "Not your daughter or new best friend or whatever you might want to consider her."

Jackson's fingertips froze on the steering wheel as he pulled from the driveway, uneager to let a fight brew that could ruin the evening. He flipped on the stereo. "So, guys, where to? Alex and I usually go to--"

"Excuse me, _Alex_, but I'm sure that, especially at the given time, she'd much rather sit with me anyway. You've changed, and I have a feeling you're not gonna go back to my baby brother," she took a deep breath. "And does Rachel consider herself your girlfriend, or your captive? Cause it has to work both ways."

"I've changed, Leese?" Alex growled as Jackson pulled onto the main road. His fingers fumbled for the dial, and now Alex and Lisa were practically screaming over the music. "That says a lot, coming from a woman who basically just let her brother disappear."

"What are you talking about?"

Alex scowled. "Did you and our parents even _bother_ looking for me, or was it, 'good riddance, he was a creep anyway'?"

"How dare you," Lisa breathed. "We searched for you for _nineteen months, _Alex. Nineteen long, agonizing months. By then it was less painful to give you up as dead. And I never called you a creep."

"You may not have said it, but I know that you sure as hell thought it," he yelled. "All those years, I was never cool enough for you. I was the freak who had no friends, remember? The reject."

Lisa paused, and Jackson glanced tensely at her.

Alex interrupted the lack of words and snapped at Jackson, "Jesus, Jackson, can you turn that fucking thing down?"

It went off.

Lisa spoke in a whisper. "I was that horrible?"

Alex licked his lips, his eyes downcast. "Yeah. Yeah, Leese. You were."

"I'm sorry."

"All I ask, Lisa, is that you leave me and Rachel alone. I may be your brother, but our situation is really none of your business. Or you, Jackson. It used to be, as my boss, but she's not part of the job anymore. It's over. This is just about us now, so leave it. I'm an adult, which you may or may not have noticed. I can make my own decisions, and so can Rachel. She made a decision and what's past is past. Understand?"

They all nodded and grumbled commitments, except for Rachel, who was still astonishingly quiet.

The car bumped along the straight main street as Jackson cleared his throat and spoke up. "Cheer up, guys. So where to?"

"McDonalds," Alex said. Every set of eyes—except Rachel, again—swiveled to him. He held up his palms and smiled weakly. "I was joking. You could cut the air with a knife, guys."

They relaxed. "What about Minchellei's?" Jackson offered. "Alex and I go there a lot. It's a nice place."

They all agreed and arrived in minutes. Jackson cut the engine and cleanly pocketed the keys. He escorted Lisa inside and they walked ahead of Alex and Rachel.

Xx

Alex stepped from the car and ran around to the other side to open Rachel's door. She looked up at him. He offered his hand.

"Rachel?" he murmured. "Please?"

What surprised him most was that she took it.


	37. when tensions awake from sleep

**A/N—Surprise, surprise. **

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

**8:30 PM**

Frederick Nolan's wife had been obnoxiously Christian. At times overbearing and with a 'holier-than-thou' attitude, she led weekly Bible studies and forced weekly church on her husband and children. He remembered her recurring speeches about what hell was like.

"It's a boiling pit of lava," she would say, eyes widened as she gathered her children in her lap, "but at times, freezing cold. Your soul freezes and you ache and you meet the devil face to face. But if you're good, and you trust in God, kids, I promise you won't _ever_ have to go there."

The concept had always scared Nolan, and he'd done his best to be an all-around good guy. He went to church, prayed, did nice things for people. But as he came to he wondered if he'd done something wrong.

Light heat burned through his closed eyelids, and he shivered in the chill. He ached all over and wondered if he really was in hell. Had he even died? What had happened?

It came back in a split second. _Rachel. Alec Rocher. Lake. Shooting. Agony. _Yes. He was definitely dead.

He heard a clatter near him and wrenched his heavy eyelids open. They burned upon catching the fluorescent light above him and he moaned. His voice was thick with sleep as he tried to sit up. A shooting pain in his abdomen forced him horizontal again.

A heavyset woman in pale mint slacks and a button-down shirt bustled near the doorway, filling a bucket with ice and setting a stack of cups next to it. She moved next to her cart, where she extracted a bottle of some sort of medicine and began scooping pills into a cup. Nolan blinked at her and looked down.

He wasn't dead. His leg was a mountainous and pain-free lump under the covers, a wrapped horror. _That bastard must have sprained it when he pushed me._

_Funny. I hadn't even felt it. _

He glanced down under the sheets at his waist and saw thick bandages enveloping his abdomen. That was what hurt the most. He wondered if he was on painkillers. He must be. A gunshot wound would be the worst, no doubt.

He cleared his throat and the nurse jumped. She smiled happily when she saw him conscious and bustled over, the pills and a glass of water jangling in her hands.

"Mr. Nolan, I see you're awake!" she cheered. "I can't tell you how much of a relief that is. You've been out for two hours, since your surgery."

"My surgery?"

"To remove the bullet. It was lodged in quite a precarious position, you know."

"Why…" Nolan rubbed his eyes. "Why am I alive? I thought a shot to the stomach would be fatal."

"It usually is," the nurse said uncomfortably. "Because the victim doesn't seek help in time. The pain is usually too crippling to bear and the individual may lose consciousness, like you did. Lucky for you, a young touring Pennsylvanian couple found you lying in the sand and one had a phone. They called an ambulance right away and we fixed you all up. How do you feel?"

"I hurt," he admitted honestly. His niece's face smiled into his mind. "Wait! My niece! Rachel! Where is she?"

"The missing girl?" the nurse repeated, crestfallen. "Oh. Well, sir, the police are looking and working off the clue she gave her sister, but it's unlikely she'll be fou--"

"I know who has her!" he yelled. "I know who has my niece and he's not going to let her go. I need to speak to a police officer, right now. They have to find her. She could die, or worse. Please, I can't let that happen to her."

The nurse waited. After a dilated sigh, she nodded. "Fine. Take your pills. I'll be right back."

"Is any of this supposed to look appetizing?" Lisa murmured, squinting at the menu in front of her.

"Surprisingly, it is," Jackson replied with a smirk. "Have you ever eaten anywhere outside of Taco Bell and Burger King?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," she replied pompously, raising her chin. "Applebee's is quite nice."

Rachel and Alex tittered as they too studied the options.

Alex cleared his throat and jabbed his thumb into the menu. "This, Rachel, is really amazing. Cilantro and pumpkin ravioli. I get it every Christmas, mostly because of the colors."

"But the steak's really good, too," Jackson piped in. Lisa jumped.

"Steak!" she cried, her eyes flashing through the menu. "Where?" He pointed.

"Rachel?" Alex prodded. She looked up. The waitress had returned with their drinks and was waiting with a bemused expression for them to order.

Rachel smiled sheepishly and handed her the menu. "The ravioli, please."

"I'll have the same," Alex nodded and turned to Rachel as Lisa and Jackson ordered. "I remember things, you know."

For some reason his words held the chill of an arctic storm, the intensity burrowing under her skin. She shuddered. "Wh—what?"

"I remember things about you. What you're like, what you like."

"Because you stalked me," she murmured, looking away as the waitress walked off.

"And dated you," he added. She scowled and sipped her drink, then wiped the liquid from her lips with her cloth napkin. The glass was rattling as she set it back down, her hand shaking in spasms of her own fright.

"Don't be so nervous," he said, touching her hand on the table. She jerked it away. He eyed it cautiously. "Like that. You know me. I know you. You don't need to be afraid."

Rachel felt her eyes widen and she drew back slightly. "I can't trust you," she whispered. "I just can't. But I'm working on it."

He sighed, toying with his napkin as he regarded her, carefully frustrated. "Fine," he sighed.

"So, what's the plan for later?" Jackson interrupted, relieving Rachel as he changed the subject.

Alex checked his watch and frowned. "By the time we get back it'll be too late to do anything except sleep. But tomorrow, if you want, we can finally give Rach and Leese the grand tour of the complex."

"What could there possible be to see?" Lisa scathed. "The arsenal?"

"Funny," Jackson cocked his head dismissively at her before moving on. "No. There's a gym and a library, to begin with. And the grounds."

"I find it hard to believe that you two would let us wander freely," Rachel snorted, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm hardly allowed to breathe alone anymore."

"Keep your voice down, Rach," Alex whispered warningly. "You're lucky we made it this far."

She glared at him, hating this feeling. Hating the bonds that were holding her down and impeding her freedom. She wanted to be alone but for the past three days she'd been anything but. The worst part was that the bond came in fleshy form, something that she could physically struggle against, Alex Reisert. That made it worse. If it had been something less visible, something less opaque, she wouldn't have felt so fidgety. But it was knowing that one way or another she could possibly break free of him that did her in.

"Sure," she snapped. "Lucky."

"And yes," Jackson continued, oblivious to the fire sparking between the younger couple. "With time, you and Lisa will be allowed to roam without supervision. When we feel that we can trust you."

Rachel was sick of thinking that she could infringe upon Alex's trust within time. Sure, if she never stopped fighting, he'd have his eye on her every moment of the day. But if she behaved like a docile little canary, she'd never break her cage because Alex would be so infatuated with her he still wouldn't leave her alone.

Honestly, she felt bad for Lisa. The girl really had no chance. If she left the complex and never looked back, she'd be in jail with little chance of freedom anyway, and if she stayed, well—that was self-explanatory. Rachel could only be relieved that she was dealing with Alex, not Jackson. Alex wasn't quite as seasoned, quite as sharpened as his boss.

It made her sick. She felt dizzy with desire to go home. It was one thing to discover that her ex-lover was really alive, but it was another entirely to be held captive by him without a chance of leaving.

She tried to block out the thoughts of home, was trying to become a new Rachel completely, but small memories kept floating back into her head. She wondered what her family would be doing now.

_Looking for me_, she realized with an anxious pang. _Because I've ruined their holiday. They'll be out all night, still searching and talking with the police, and Chris and Gina won't get a Christmas morning. They won't want one, but there won't be one regardless. I ruined it for them. _

Rachel reflected on Christmases past. Midnight mass, Christmas cookies, a huge dinner. In the morning, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, all visiting for breakfast and to open presents. The anticipation. The warmth.

_And even if it does happen, I won't be there, _she thought, sinking further into depression._ I'm stuck here with no holiday, and even the memory of Christmas will be shit for my family forever. It will mean two things: the disappearance and assumed death of Rachel, and the assassination of uncle Nolan. And both of these were my fault, because I made the mistake of falling in love with Dan Gregory. With Alex Reisert. With Alec Rocher._

Rachel didn't realize the small little whimper she emitted, but when Alex turned to look at her he frowned in worry. "You all right?"

"I need to use the restroom," she forced out, beginning to stand. Alex grabbed her wrist.

"The food will be coming soon," he reminded tersely, plastering a smile over his face. _Sympathetic boyfriend, yeah right. What he really means is, 'I don't want you going alone to the bathroom because I can't trust you not to do something rash but I can't go with you because how would that look?'_

"Alex, let her go," Jackson yawned, annoyed. "Cut the cord already. Jesus."

Alex's eyes flashed uncertainty and Rachel entered a death match with him. Behind his pupils, however, she knew that two separate parts of his brain were battling it out for his approval. "Fine," he snapped. "But hurry up."

As she pushed away from him and began stumbling to the bathroom, she heard his voice clearly and coldly behind her. "Remember, Rach." She turned.

Alex's face was icy, yet a strange sort of calm. _Like the calm in the eye of a hurricane. _"Fool me once, shame on you."

She tried to step forward, but her feet were frozen in place. She slowly twisted her face back to see him as he finished. A smirk was crawling up his face.

"But fool me twice…shame on me."


	38. When hurt exchanges hands

**9:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Sam had been annoyed, if not downright angry, when her brother had left unexpectedly four hours ago. He'd received a phone call on his cell that he'd left the room to take. As if that hadn't infuriated her enough, his discreetness, he'd departed from the hotel with only a, "I'll be back in a bit!"

He obviously hadn't heard her, "Where are you going? We have to meet the police in an hour!" or he would have stopped for sure, she knew. Sam watched his retreating car speed from the Super 8 parking lot before turning with a sigh to her family.

Chris had picked up the phone forty-five minutes later.

"Mom?"

Sam turned from the window and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She accepted the phone and cradled it gingerly against her shoulder. "Hello?"  
"Mrs. Redford, this is Detective Maddox, I was--"

She frantically raised her wrist to the light, checking the time. "My watch must be running behind, I'm terribly sorry, we'll be over in a--"

"Please, ma'am," with a heaved sigh, Sam quieted, though still frenzied in her attempts to apologize. "I have some news."

"Rachel?" Sam gasped, her heart lifting. "You found my baby girl?"

There was a long, drawn-out pause. Sam deflated but kept her hopes up for positive news. _Maybe they're onto something._ "No," he replied dejectedly. "I'm afraid that the news I must give you isn't pleasant. Your brother was shot in Kissimmee and the last we heard he was undergoing bullet removal surgery at Orlando General. Now, we'd still like to meet with you but I can understand if you'd like to attend to your brother's business first. By all means--"

Sam hung up and grabbed her coat, herding the kids into the car.

Now she was angry.

**9:05 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Alex checked his watch yet again as Lisa poked her meat with a sigh. _Damn it, it's cold. _The waitress returned and she held up her plate.

"Could you reheat this, please?" she murmured with a polite smile. The waitress frowned.

"Sure."

When she left, Jackson scowled at Alex. "Why are we waiting to eat?"

"Because Rachel's still in the bathroom."

"So?"

Alex just glared at him. Lisa cleared her throat. "I can go and get her, guys." She looked to Jackson for approval. He nodded, and she pushed away from the table.

Lisa rapped loudly on the door and waited. There was the sound of a quiet gasp, a clatter, and then a throat clearing. Lisa frowned at the door.

"Rach?"

There was a moment of silence, and then another strangled little choke. "Leese?"

"Can I come in?"

The door flew open and Lisa expected Rachel to go flying into her arms, but she had to step inside and peer at the wall before she could see the source of Rachel's frenzy.

The floor length mirror covering one of the walls had turned a light pink color in some places. Rachel was staring at it, then her shoes, then darting her eyes back up to meet Lisa's. Her hands were wrung in front of her.

Lisa couldn't help it. She covered her face for a moment, then bit her lip. It came out anyway. She laughed. Rachel glared at her.

"I can't get it off!" she squeaked angrily. "I don't even know why I did it!"

Lisa grabbed a paper towel and wet it. "Because," she said matter-of-factly. "You are way too much like myself and can't control yourself from writing on mirrors when you feel intimidated. Where did you get the lipstick?"

Rachel cast her eyes to the floor again. "Someone left it in one of the stalls."

Lisa sighed and studied the image in front of her. KIDNAPPER, I NEED HELP TABLE 12. "Shit. I hope this comes off. I used soap."

"You did this?" Rachel frowned.

Lisa nodded. "Yeah. Back on the plane. But, like I said, I used soap, and I said Jackson's seat had a bomb."

"I'm guessing it didn't work."  
Lisa shook her head. "Nope. But you at least had a chance. Alex wouldn't have come in here."

Rachel bit her lip and looked away. Lisa cut her eyes at the girl and paused in her scrubbing at the mirror. "Rach?"

"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," Rachel whispered, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. Lisa dropped the paper towel and contemplated her.

"What do you mean?"

"One minute I hate Alex. I want to kill him, I want to hurt him for what he's done, for what he's doing to me. I want to run away from him and never look back. But then the next, I'm completely in love with him again and would never dream of leaving his side. When I was writing this, I was angry, and I was afraid. I wanted somebody to help me escape and get me home. But then I looked down, and I saw _this_, and he stopped being the kidnapper in my mind. I loved him again, he was Dan again. When things are this way, it's even worse than if it were one solid way. Because I can't trust myself and feel like a phony."

Lisa screwed her face up in concentration and thought before she spoke. "Sometimes, Rachel, I think—I don't really think that anybody knows what they want. Not immediately. Give it time, give him a chance. Life is too short to wander around in that indecisiveness, but you won't know either way until you stop being afraid of what he could be and forget what he is. I didn't know Alec or Dan, but I knew Alex. He was sweet, a little odd, I'll admit, but overall, all he really wants is to be loved. He loves you, Rachel. I can tell. I think that's why he's so possessive, so controlling. He's too afraid of losing you again."

Rachel sighed, wiping her eyes. "It's hard, though, because I want to see my family so badly. Its so hard to choose, Leese, you have no idea." Her face fell as soon as she said it, and Lisa saw that Rachel had realized her mistake.

"I do have an idea," Lisa pointed out, though Rachel obviously had discovered that. "I can't see my dad, and trust me, Rachel, if I had a choice, I'd be home. But I have to take the next best alternative, and that's Jackson."

"Do you love him?"

Lisa was shocked by Rachel's change in direction, and she froze for a moment as she fully absorbed what the girl was asking her. As she searched for an answer, she stuttered, "Do—do I love him?"

"Yeah."

_Do I love Jackson? _

_He's hurt me._

_Tried to kill me._

_I said I loved him, but do I?_

_He's keeping me from home._

_But I let my guard down with him._

_And I can trust him. _

"Yes," Lisa murmured, not even to Rachel but to herself. "I think so. I think I love him. I hardly know him, but I love him."

Rachel nodded, as if she understood. She did understand, Lisa realized. She knew what it was like to have lover and enemy rolled into one convenient package.

Lisa liked her. She liked what they had in common, and she liked having her around. "I think, though, Rachel, we'll eventually be allowed to see our families. Jackson promised me a call to my dad later, and I know that once we build up our levels of trust with the two, they'll let us see them. Provided that our parents don't go running to the police. Because Jackson and Alex would sooner let us go than get caught."

"I don't think Alex would," Rachel admitted. "I don't think he would leave me."

"For Jackson it's safer to leave me," Lisa told her, feeling a bit sad. "I'm a national fugitive at the moment. They have my dad, but Jackson's planning something so I can help him, I know it. He won't let him rot in prison. Jackson can be an asshole, but he's not that cruel."

"But I'm just a hostage," Rachel sighed. "If they find us somehow—which isn't likely, even with the clue I gave my sister—I'll just be brought back to counseling for a year."

There was a loud rapping on the door and Lisa's gaze snapped back to the mirror. She glanced nervously at Rachel, who was staring at the paper towel at the floor, her chest heaving in panicked gasps.

"The mirror," she whispered frantically. "What if that's one of them?"

"Rachel!" Alex shouted. "Come on!"

"Let's just leave," Lisa muttered to her. "If we step out soon enough and block the view with our bodies, we have a chance of him not seeing it. But if he gets impatient enough and comes in, we're screwed."

"We?"

Lisa smiled encouragingly at her. "He doesn't have to know it was you."

Rachel nodded and they hurried to the door. Lisa opened it first and grinned cheerfully at Alex. He wore a mask of intolerance and annoyance.

"All better," she chirped. "Rachel was having a little female trouble but she's doing--"

It ended then. Alex glanced past Lisa and although his gaze didn't linger on it at first, he looked back and his eyes narrowed upon the mirror. He grabbed Lisa's shoulder and forced her out of the doorway. Rachel backed away.

"Go sit down, Lisa," he ordered, his voice low but menacing.

"It's not her fault, Alex," Lisa hissed nervously. "She didn't do it. I did."

He glared at her. "I wasn't born yesterday. Things will be a lot easier, now, if you _leave._"

"I'm not leaving." She refused to let Rachel be succumbed again to this sort of emotional abuse.

Jackson appeared behind Lisa and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Come on. It'll be fine. Don't make a scene."

"I'm not making a scene," she whined. "But I'm not going to let Alex 'deal with her' because I don't want to see her hurt again!"

"I'm not going to hurt her," Alex growled.

"Lisa," Jackson was pulling her backwards.

"Don't touch her!" Lisa called as she was forced back to the table.


	39. the emotions are mirror images

**9:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Alex shut and locked the door behind him before turning and surveying the scene. The message on the mirror was written in bright pink lipstick, a vivid message of Rachel's betrayal. The perpetrator herself stood against the sink with her hands clasped and head down in a sign of defeat. Alex scowled.

"You think you're pretty cute, don't you?" he scolded. "What the hell were you thinking?"

She didn't answer. He began striding to her, desperate for answers with a hand outstretched for her arm, when she squeaked and ducked away, taking cover in a corner.

Alex went for her there, and when she tried to dart from him again, he threw out a hand and clenched her neck, slamming her against the wall headfirst.

He lowered his faces to inches from hers and hissed into her ear. "I expect an answer, Rachel."

She moaned and pulled at his hand, trying to open her airways. He let up some, just enough for her to speak. When she didn't, he moved closer and wrapped his legs around her ankles, pressing her even more against the papered wall behind her.

"Do you hate me that much?" he snarled. "I've never wanted to hurt you but you keep _doing_ this. You keep provoking me. I'm so sick of your inconsistency, Rachel. Make up your fucking mind."

"I can't!" she spat finally. "That's the problem! I want to love you, Alex, but its when you do shit like _this_ that I want to get away! How easy do you think this is for me?"

He paused, breathing heavily at her admittance. "Well, pause for a moment, Rachel, and think about what I'm going through. The girl I happen to be in love with was also a pawn in an assassination plot and my hostage. And then I find out that I already loved her once a year ago but I didn't realize it because my best friend wiped my memory clean to prevent pain and promote productiveness. Think about that for a minute."

Her face softened some, and although Alex felt guilty about laying his problems on her on top of her admittedly difficult ones, it was necessary. Rachel needed to realize the true magnification of the situation before she could accustom to it.

"I…" she swallowed, and Alex could feel the movement in his palms. "I'm sorry. I just….I want my family back. I don't want to feel threatened anymore, and I'm sick of feeling like a hostage."

"Then lighten up," he whispered. "Be the girlfriend I know you want to be instead of the helpless little prisoner that you're playing. Stop aggravating me and admit what you're feeling. You don't constantly need to hide anything. It just makes things more difficult for both of us."

She nodded. "I'll try. But I need you to promise something."

"What's that?"

"That you won't hurt me. And that you won't leave me again."

He smirked at her, satisfied. _I would never leave you._ "I wouldn't leave you for the world, Rachel. And I won't hurt you. Unless you try something like this again. Which you won't need to, because I promise you, I'll give you whatever you need."

"I want to see my family again, though," she murmured. "Don't expect me to be apart from them for the rest of my life."

"I don't," he admitted simply. "When things calm down, maybe in a few months at the earliest, I'll let you call them. With the given that they can't run to the police and you can't stay with them, we can possibly arrange a regular meeting. I don't want to sacrifice you or your sanity, but I'm not going to get arrested."

"Granted."

He smiled at her and picked up the towel from the floor, beginning to scrub at the writing. Rachel moved to the sink to wet another towel and help him, but on her way over, she stopped in her tracks and turned contemplatively to him.

"Alex?"

He didn't look up. "Yeah?"

Her voice was then so quiet that he almost didn't hear what she said. If it had been anything else, he knew he wouldn't have picked it up. But, with the magnitude of a mouse crossing the floor, she whispered, "I love you."

Alex dropped the towel then and turned, taking a step closer to her. She stepped forward as well, and he placed an arm on her shoulder. She didn't flinch or back away.

"I love you, too," he nearly broke his promise but paused, "May I kiss you?"

The words had barely escaped her lips before he cut her short, fulfilling his request and soaring at her reply.

She loved him.


	40. One change in a routine

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, guys! As always, please review. :P**

**Xx**

**11:00 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"Please," Sam grabbed the cashier's hand. The boy tried to shrink away, back into the safety of the girlfriend standing behind him, but Sam was relentless, moaning her plead with clenched teeth. "Please. Just tell me what you know about my baby."

"I told you, I--"

"You said before that she was here," Gina interjected, waving the portrait yet again before his acne-scarred face. "Why aren't you telling us _what you know_? How would it hurt you any?"

He sighed, his face a mask of frustration. He turned to his girlfriend and nodded grimly. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before taking the dirty dishtowel he offered and moving to the back to rinse it clean. The boy pushed out to one of the main tables and sat, steepling his fingers nervously in front of him as he waited for the Redfords and Detective Maddox to join him.

They pulled up chairs and crowded around him. He glanced skittishly around the dining establishment before beginning in a rushed, quiet whisper. "She was here. With a man."

Detective Maddox whipped out his notepad and began scribbling away. "With who? Is he local? Do you know his name?"

The boy shook his head. "He's local, I think, he's come in here before with some other guy, an older one."

"Can you describe either of them to me?"

"Well, the one your girl came in with--"

"Rachel."

"Yeah, her. The one she came in with was tall and thin. He had blonde hair--"

"Long or short?"

The boy blinked. "Wha--"

"Long or short?" the detective repeated, his voice laced with irritability. "It's a simple question."

"Uh-well-long, I guess," the kid replied, his voice slow, seemingly oblivious to the tension surrounding his testimony.

"Anything else?"

"Green eyes, I think. And--" he shuddered suddenly, casting his eyes to his hands.

"And what?"

"A scar," the cashier said finally, drawing in a deep breath. "A big long scar, from his hair to his mouth."

Detective Maddox jotted it down and turned to Mr. Redford. "That's him?"

"From the description Nolan gave me I would say yes, that's definitely her kidnapper."

"And did Nolan say if Rocher was taking her anywhere?"

"No, he didn't mention it," Sam frowned. "I hadn't even considered that!" She clutched her husband's arm, beginning to grow panicked. "Oh God, what if he's taken her somewhere? What if we never find her?"

"We will," he assured her, turning distractedly back to the detective. "What else can we do?"

"They live nearby," the boy replied, his eyes slightly glazed over, his voice robotic. "I think. They've walked in, sometimes."

The detective scrawled that haphazardly on his notepad as well and stood. "Come on."

"What are we doing?"

"We're sending out a squad to search for your daughter."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

**11:20 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"We should wait up for Christmas," Rachel pointed out as Alex unlocked the apartment door and ushered her inside. She smothered a yawn with her fist as Alex laughed at her.

"And why should we do that? You can't stay awake as it is."

"It's only forty minutes," she pleaded innocently. "C'mon, Alex. Don't worry for once."

"Yeah, Alex, don't worry for once," Jackson teased, stepping inside with Lisa and shutting the door.

"Guys," Alex moaned. "Christ, can't we get a moment alone?" He began grabbing glasses from the corner cabinet as Jackson set a bottle of cheap champagne on the island countertop.

"Rachel can't drink that," Lisa pointed out, settling herself on the couch. "She's a minor, Jackson."

"A minor who just happens to be well-seasoned from her summers in France with her uncle," Alex pointed out, handing her a half-filled wine glass. "She'll be fine, Leese."

"Alex--"

"Now who's worrying?" Jackson chuckled and settled himself next to Lisa. She scooted away from him but he quickly set his glass on the coffeetable and lunged for her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he dragged her to him. She rolled her eyes but smiled as she accepted the glass Alex handed her.

Rachel made herself comfortable on floor and stretched out, pressing her cheek to the cool carpeting as she watched Lisa and Jackson bicker. She fought a gloomy sort of smile, a melancholy grin that expressed her wish for perfection.

She felt a heavy hand on her waist and rolled over to see Alex sit on the floor next to her. He set his wine glass near his head and propped himself up with his elbow, touching her face.

She warmed at the contact and entwined her fingers with his. "Is this how it's going to be from now on?"

He cocked his head at her question, still stroking her cheek with his free hand. "What do you mean?"  
"I feel happy."

"That would be a good thing."

"But will it stay like that?"

He murmured, "I already promised you that, Rach. What more is there to say?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel like it's too good to be true."

"You've been training yourself for way too long to believe that you don't deserve anything, sweetheart," Alex whispered. "And that's what you're feeling now. Life doesn't have to be bad. It isn't all bad."

"Up until now, though," she sighed back. "It was."


	41. can lead to what seems like the end

**11:50 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Detective Maddox cut the engine and squinted down the long, winding road. Sam craned her neck over his head to see, and Gina over her. They stumbled from the car.

"This is it," he muttered, rubbing his balding head in contemplation. "It must be. See those tire tracks?"

"Yes."

He held out a photograph for her to see, and shined his flashlight over it. "They match these. The ones made outside of the Reisert girl's house in Miami. And since we've connected that girl with your daughter's kidnapper--"

"I understand," Mr. Redford pushed the light away, anxious to get moving. "Can we move in yet? I want to save my daughter!"

"Now, don't get your hopes up," Maddox held up a cautious palm, speaking calmly. "There's a good chance that they've already hightailed it out of here after Rocher's confrontation with Mr. Nolan."

"But maybe not!"

"Yes," the detective repeated disbelievingly. "Maybe not."

Two additional squad cars pulled in behind the three already parked and several officers stepped out, waiting for direction.

"Get back in," Maddox muttered. "We're going to attempt to sneak up on them. If their little mafia here is as secretive as they'd like it to be, there'll be hidden cameras. However, since we have the advantage of surprise and the cover of the night on our side, we do have a chance that the cameras might not spot us."

"Why don't we just walk in?" Chris piped in. "Wouldn't it be less obvious without the patrol cars?"

"First of all," Mr. Redford opened the car door for his son and pointed. "You, your mother, and Gina aren't going anywhere. You're staying here."

"But Da--"

"There'll be plenty enough action if we find Rachel," Detective Maddox agreed solemnly. "Don't worry, son. These are dangerous people we're dealing with, here. They nearly killed your uncle, and we wouldn't want the same to happen to you."

He sighed as Sam began to speak. "I'm going with you, Detective. I'm Rachel's mother, and I _refuse_ to sit by while you people play the Batman."

Her husband stared intently at her, his eyes pleading silently. "Please, Sammy. Please. Just do this for Rachel, all right? She wouldn't want you hurt on her behalf, _trust me._"

"She wouldn't want you hurt, either."

"But I'm--"

"But _you're the man,_" Sam snapped, the condescension in her voice identical to the expression on her oldest daughter's face. "Fine. I'll stay here. But if you let anything happen to my--"

"Sam, I think you keep forgetting that she's my daughter, too," Mr. Redford replied, a bit of hurt echoing in his voice. Sam and her children slunk off to the car in the darkness.

"Okay, then," Detective Maddox radioed into the other officers, and they prepared to take four loaded squad cars down the trail.

**11:55 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Rachel couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet that suddenly rattled her head. She frowned and emptied the rest of her wine glass in the sink.

"Rach?" Alex patted the floor next to him, his face lined with worry. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she murmured. "I think I might go freshen up real quickly before midnight. Is that okay?"

He checked his watch. "You sure? You might miss it."

"It's not New Years, Alex," Rachel forced a laugh and pushed past Lisa's sleeping form on the couch to make her way to the bathroom.

She undressed and wondered if it was the champagne that was getting to her. She doubted it. With her aunt and uncle, she'd been known to drink a whole glass before it even began to affect her. She held her alcohol well for her size, and for some reason, the sickness that suddenly pressed hard on her esophagus wasn't one of physical means. Something was bothering her, and she hated not knowing what it was.

Rachel twisted the knob in the shower to hot, and stepped inside. She waited for the pressure in her chest to fade, but it remained, a constant reminder of her anguish. _What's going on with me? I'm happy. You're happy, Rachel Redford, you're happy now._ She began to lather shampoo into her hair, kneading her scalp with her fingertips and wondering what could possibly be going wrong now.

**11:57 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

"Shit," Jackson sat up suddenly from the couch. Lisa groaned and stirred in his lap, but as he slid out from beneath her she drifted back to sleep.

Alex yawned on the floor. "What is it?" He was beginning to worry about Rachel. She was showering again. He was concerned that her excessive bathing was a method of relieving stress. She had nothing to stress over.

The obnoxious mechanical beeping coming from Jackson's watch clicked an invisible signal in his brain and he bolted to his feet. "Shit!"

Jackson ran to his laptop and plugged it into the wall, his fingers like lightning on the keyboard as he pulled up the security system. Sure enough, not one, not two, but _four_ police cars were pulling up in front of the complex.

"Are we the only ones home tonight?" Alex questioned gravely, running for his laptop bag. "Everybody else is on assignment, right?"

"Yeah," Jackson grabbed his jacket and quickly yanked it on as they heard the doors being broken down in the lobby. "Hurry up."

"Rachel!" Alex ran for the bathroom, but Jackson grabbed his arm.

"No!" Jackson hissed, pulling him for the door. "You have your files, we need to leave, _now._" He attempted to rouse Lisa on the couch. She didn't budge.

"I can't leave her!" the sound of footsteps on the stairs caused Alex's brain to whir in anxiety. _This isn't happening. I can't choose. My freedom—or Rachel?_ "I promised, Jackson, I promised that I wouldn't--"

"They will _kill you_, Alex," Jackson snapped finally. "If we stay here, you're dead. You're a kidnapper, a murderer, and as far as they know, a rapist. _We need to leave. _She'll be fine."

Alex battled with his masculinity as tears threatened. "No, I--"

Jackson made his way for the hidden staircase in the coat closet. "I'm leaving." Lisa didn't move on the couch.

"What about Lisa?" he called out. Jackson turned back, his face contorted slightly in regret. He braced himself as he gripped the stair railing tightly.

"There's not enough time."

Alex glanced back once more at Lisa, placidly asleep, and as he followed Jackson down the stairs, the bathroom door, behind which was Rachel. Unaware of his betrayal, of his lament.

"I'm sorry," he murmured one last time before running down the stairs.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

**11:58 PM**

**Sunday, December 24, 2006**

Rachel grabbed a towel from the rack adjacent to her and dried her hair, then her body. She stepped into a fresh pair of pajamas, still feeling apprehensive but a bit more revived. Hearing a thud from the main room, she frowned before laughing at her reflection in the mirror.

"Stop worrying so much," she scolded herself.

Rachel dragged a comb through her sopping hair before unlocking the door and stepping back into the living room.

"Don't move or we'll shoot!"

Rachel cried out in shock and collapsed to the floor as officers swarmed her.

"Rachel!"

She looked up. Her father darted to her, crushing her in his arms and sheltering her from the police.

Rachel was confused as to what exactly was happening. "Where's Alex?" she cried without meaning to. "Is he still alive?"

"He's gone, baby."

His words crushed her like a thousand-pound fist, and she trembled. "Wh-what?"

"He left. He's gone."

Rachel's head spun, her brain involuntarily conjuring images of Alex Reisert. "N-no…"

Everything around her was a blur. A stranger in a suit cuffed Lisa as she groggily lept from the couch. "Lisa Reisert, you are under arrest for the conspiracy and murder of…"

"Alex," Rachel whispered one more time, forgetting everything else as the clock chimed midnight and she collapsed into her father's arms.


	42. But could it be true?

**2:10 AM**

**Monday, December 25, 2006**

The nurse stopped Nolan's chair outside of the door. He looked up at her, annoyed but not in a negative sense. It was more like the tension before a toddler runs down the stairs on Christmas morning: right now, seeing his niece was what he wanted more than anything in the world, and he wasn't going to let this old night nurse get in his way.

She wheeled him to Rachel's bedside, where the girl was still asleep. Nolan would have called her peaceful, if it weren't for the expression on her face and how she was resting on the bed. Her face was twisted up, like she was ready to scream or hit something, and her fist was curled up next to her face. He frowned at her but grateful tears rolled from his eyes as the nurse left and he gently caressed her cheek.

Her eyelids fluttered open, which he understood was for only the second time since she'd been rescued. The first time had allegedly been in the squad car on the way to the hospital when she'd awoken, screamed, and flailed madly only to fly from her mother's arms. She'd spoken frantically, asking where she was and why. What was going on, where was Alec.

Now, Rachel's eyes were flooded with tears and her face flushed as she blinked at him and came to. "Uncle Freddy?" she whispered, the salty liquid rolling down her cheeks. "I thought—I thought—you died…didn't…"

He grinned weakly at her. "No, I'm still kicking, unfortunately for your cousins."

"But what…?"

"I survived. When that bastard Rocher shot me an--"

"But he said he didn't…" she appeared upset, so Nolan touched her head to attempt to comfort her.

"Sh. I should be more careful. He didn't shoot me, he had _somebody_ _else_ try to kill me, the coward. But some kids found me, and here I am."

Rachel whispered something inaudibly, and Nolan nudged her chin.

"What was that, angel?"

"He's not a coward," she murmured. Nolan frowned at her and couldn't avoid the words that came next.

"Are you afraid of him?" he regretted it, but he needed to know. He needed to know if that monster had hurt his little girl in anyway. He slapped himself for his coarseness when she'd be getting enough of that from paparazzi and detectives in due time.

Rachel replied instantly, which shocked him. She sat up and brushed the hair out of her face, looking away as she spoke. "Not in the way you would think."

"Babe," he began, sticking his foot in his mouth with every syllable that escaped his lips, "I need to know. Did he hurt you? In any way at all? Or do anything that wasn't…normal?"

What came next was so uncharacteristic for Rachel that Nolan wondered if he were in the right room. Her gaze suddenly snapped to his and although her chin trembled slightly she managed to sneer, "I'm not stupid, Uncle Fred. I know what you're implying and no, he didn't hurt me any more than I hurt him."

So that's what it was. Guilt. She was feeling guilty for hurting someone. Nolan smiled reassuringly at her and touched her elbow. She flinched and scooted to the other side of the bed, clinging helplessly to her pillow as tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Rach, honey, whatever you did to him was in self defense. You're not going to be in trouble for--"

"I know," she moaned. "I know, okay? But I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it."

He sighed, and rubbed her shoulder. "It's over, sweetheart. It's over."

He wondered if it was relief, or maybe regret, that laced her voice as she whispered back, "I know."

**5:00 AM**

**Monday, December 25, 2006**

Alex didn't stop with the first bottle. Nor with the second, or the third. The glass covered the ground as he felt himself grow more and more intoxicated. He wasn't planning on quitting this routine until he died or passed out, one of the two.

His future was brutally halted as Jackson stumbled from the car, rubbing his eyes as he observed his friend in the dim lighting.

As the fourth empty beer bottle smashed against the tree, Jackson hissed angrily and slammed Alex against it.

"What the fuck are you doing, man?" he growled at him, gesturing grandly behind him. "I leave you alone for a few hours and you almost get us arrested!"

"Don't care," Alex slurred stubbornly. He really didn't. If he got arrested, he'd get death penalty. He hadn't realized it when he'd made his mistake, but death would be better than living without his Rachel. "Better than this."

"Then let me rephrase myself," Jackson snapped, shaking his friend by the collar. "Do you want _me _to get arrested? I'll answer that for you: no, you don't."

"This is your fault, Jack," Alex snarled. "You took her away from me _twice_. I should kill you."  
"You have such an advantage being inebriated," Jackson snorted. "You can't even land a punch on me sober, I'd hate to think of you when you've pounded at least four drinks into your system."

He was wrong, as Alex lunged out and managed to bite his arm, drawing blood.

_I bit him,_ Alex found this strangely funny for some reason, but before he could laugh, he felt the too-familiar slamming of Jackson's skull against his and then a blissful sleep welcomed his thoughts.

**5:10 AM**

**Monday, December 25, 2006**

Jackson swore quietly as he set Alex's limp body in the backseat of the Sedan and shut the door, turning on the car. He hated how unpredictable the damn kid was. One minute he was sleeping peacefully next to him and the next he was getting drunk with mystery beer and throwing his anger against trees.

He must've walked to a store and bought some while Jackson had been sleeping, the dumbest and riskiest thing Alex could have done. If he'd been recognized—it didn't matter that they weren't in Florida, by now 'Alec Rocher' would be a household name, and that scar stuck out like a sore thumb—he'd be as good as dead. Jackson hated the brat sometimes, but he didn't want to see him dead.

Jackson pulled out from the cover of the trees and urged the car up the small dirt hill to the main road. He hightailed it out of that county as quick as he could, periodically glancing back at Alex in the back.

That sort of depression was abnormal, even for the kid. Jackson missed Lisa, sure, but it wasn't like he was never going to see her again. As soon as he could get Alex into hiding and get word to the other members of the organization that there'd been a breech, he'd be back in business. He'd get on a plane to Miami and bust Lisa out, as sure as day. There was no 'if' involved in his plans whatsoever.

It would be the same with Alex. If his desire beat out his morality, Jackson would sure that he'd get Rachel back. He would pay no heed to her own will—though Jackson had a feeling she'd be pretty damn willing to return to her boyfriend—or her family, or even the law. It wasn't over yet.

Not for anybody.


	43. A volcanic sort of outlook

A/N-So thank you all for sticking with this, and for reviewing! That means the world to me, really.

**Xx**

**Tuesday, December 27, 2006**

**2:54 PM**

The first two days, she wouldn't speak. After Rachel's initial conversation with her uncle, she refused to utter a single phrase that would convict Alex as 'the bad guy'. Her parents told her—hourly, it seemed—that it wasn't _her _fault, it was _his._ His fault. Right. If it was really his fault then why did she feel so guilty?

If life had a personality, Rachel scathed, then it was pretty damn bitter towards her at the moment. It gave her a boyfriend. Then pulled him away. Then gave him back. And when she was getting accustomed to it—oh—life stuck out a gnarled hand and yanked him away from her again.

She felt like she had deserved it all along. She hadn't appreciated love when she'd had it the first time, and she thought she'd learned her lesson from that experience. But she hadn't, and without realizing it she'd done the same thing all over again by rejecting Alex when he revealed himself to her. She couldn't blame the heavens for that—that was purely her own stupidity.

Rachel's pride was the only thing that kept her from going completely mad. She could blame Alex's leaving on her own behavior, sure, but why bother if there were external sources as well? Detective Maddox, for being so fucking persistent in his effort to find her. Her parents, for being so eager to blame Alex, for not understanding what was so clear, and the biggest one—for coddling her. She didn't want to be babied like some four-year old who had a bad day at school. She wanted them to just leave her alone and let her sleep.

She could blame Jackson. For all she knew, maybe _he_ was the one who forced Alex to leave. After lying awake and contemplating that Christmas night, Rachel wondered maybe if Alex had been taken away from her against her will. Jackson could have immobilized him and dragged him away—he was a valuable asset to his organization, why wouldn't he? Alex had promised Rachel that he wouldn't leave her again. And the first and only time he'd actually left her, she realized, had been of _Jackson's_ account anyway.

But then it hit her that she hadn't treated him the greatest in their short reunion. She'd been bitter, surly, and quite bluntly a pain in his ass. So what would give him incentive to surrender his freedom for her? Unless he really and truly trusted that what she'd said—that she loved him—was true, and was willing to gamble on the downside that she could be playing him into a jail cell.

Then there was Lisa. Rachel didn't hold Lisa responsible for anything that had happened, but she'd questioned why she hadn't left with Jackson. Maybe the two weren't as attached as she'd thought. Or maybe Lisa had still been sleeping and Jackson, ever the assassin, had left her to her fate in prison.

Rachel knew Lisa's father was in deep legal trouble as it was. She'd overheard Jackson informing Lisa that he had been released but kept under close watch as a suspect for association in the Keefe murder—which she learned had been successful on the organization's part. Charles Keefe was officially dead, as the news stations proclaimed had taken place early on the twenty-third.

Lisa Reisert was, as it was, the prime suspect for his murder. Jackson had worked her right where he wanted her. Every sign pointed directly to her and there was no turning back. Lisa would be lucky if she got off with a life sentence.

Rachel knew she'd be contacted to testify alongside her. To claim that indeed—Lisa _was_ kidnapped by Keefe's murderer and that she in fact _was_ just a victim to Jackson's manipulation and threats. But even then the problem was that Rachel was only sixteen, had just fallen victim to a kidnapping herself, and as she'd heard the night nurse muttering to her doctor one evening, "Something's not right with that girl. I think that monster who kidnapped her managed to break her down, drove her near crazy."

Rachel wasn't crazy. She just wanted quiet. She wanted to think but then, she wanted to _stop_ thinking. It was a tricky situation, because when she was surrounded by noise and questions, all she wanted to do was to be alone and figure out why Alex had left her, but when she finally was rewarded with that blissful silence, she went stir-crazy and wanted to be numb.

"Rachel." She glanced up. Her father brushed her arm and pointed to the seatbelt seat.

"What?"

"You need to buckle up." It dawned on her that she'd forgotten where she was as she thought. The airplane. The plane to back home.

She blinked, rubbing her eyes. She couldn't remember what he'd said. "What?"

He sighed, obviously growing annoyed with her but trying to keep his cool in light of her current mental situation. "Buckle up." He stretched to do it for her.

_"Buckle up." Alec sighed and irritably reached over, snapping Rachel's belt into the latch._

_She pushed his hand away as it grazed her waist on its journey. "Don't touch me."_

"_Then listen to me for once."_

"_I will if you don't touch me."_

Rachel started to cry as the buckle snapped into place. She pushed her father's hand away and he stared at her. Detective Maddox—seated on her other side, because she'd refused a window seat and they didn't want her exposed to the prying eyes of the other passengers—touched her shoulder and she flinched, drawing away and sinking into her seat. She heard the conversation around her quiet and then silence completely, and while the normal her would have been humiliated at her outburst, the 'crazy, broken' Rachel Redford didn't give a damn.

"Rachel," her father murmured as the plane began to move. "Honey."

"I'm fine," she said, a bit more snappishly than she would have liked. "I'm fine."

"She's fine," her father repeated loudly, also obviously a bit tense, to the staring travelers.

Maddox poked her lightly in the elbow and she raised her head slightly to see him wave a tissue in her face. She reluctantly accepted it, though still maintaining her vow of silence with the doltish man. He deserved no better than Jackson.

They'd been in the air for about an hour when he attempted to communicate with her again. "Can we talk?"

She shook her head, letting her hair fall guardedly in front of her sullen face. There really wasn't much to talk about, unless of course you were an officious detective named Maddox bent on forcing an angry girl to testify.

"We need to."

She shook her head again, 'no'.

"No, we don't need to talk?" Maddox cocked his head at her, but she still ignored him, reaching for the magazine in the mesh rack hanging from the seat ahead of her. He slapped her hand away, a bit callously. Rachel heard her father clear his throat.

"Detective, just leave her be. Can't you see she's--"

"Damn it, Redford, you can't appease her behavior forever! We need to get to the bottom of what happened so justice can be served to the asshole who hurt her."

"First of all," Rachel berated, forgetting her promise to herself. "He didn't hurt me. I've told you that over and over again. Second of all, I don't _want_ to talk to you because all you do is ask pointless questions that get you nowhere. Which leads to my last point which is this—how the hell do you plan on serving justice when the man who kidnapped me isn't in custody? What are you going to prosecute, the chair where he should be sitting in court? I'm a sixteen-year-old highschool student and forgive my slim knowledge of the legal system, but it seems to me that you'd need a little bit more than one girl's confession to put somebody in jail."

Maddox nearly seemed winded from her outburst as she reached, all the more calmly, again for her magazine. He sat staring at his knuckles until the plane began to make its descent an hour later at Albany International.

"We could find him for you," he muttered reflectively. "We could find him with the information you could give us."

Rachel snorted in reply but didn't avert her gaze from the pages of her reading. "Trust me, Detective, you won't find him."


	44. is when everything explodes

**A/N: Here we go again! Thanks to all you reviewers.**

**Xx**

**Tuesday, December 27, 2006**

**8:00 PM**

Lisa was having trouble understanding exactly what had happened early Christmas morning. Although she clearly grasped that, yes, she'd been arrested, she was eager for news on Rachel and the boys. Rachel, as she was told late Monday evening, was fine and in the hospital under the supervision of her family.

Which was good.

Jackson was, as it happened, a no-show. Lisa had difficulty remembering the events that had unfolded before her that morning, but she had a distinct recollection of Jackson's departure. Somebody shaking her shoulder, gruffly whispering in her ear before giving up and leaving her behind.

Betrayal. He could have brought her with him, and she knew it. It wouldn't have taken much more effort than he'd given to rouse her, and Lisa was hurt because she knew the truth.

Jackson Rippner was not lazy.

He was obviously just sick of her, and left her for the police.

It struck her as betrayal. Lisa thought they'd had something, that he trusted her, and, it stung her to admit, she trusted him. She never would have thought he'd have left her. It was the old army catchphrase—never leave a man behind. Granted, she wasn't a man, but that was beyond the point.

She tried not to dwell on it, at least not at the time being. She had her hands full enough as it was, with the police hounding her for information, certain she was the culprit behind the Keefe murder and had partnered in Rachel's kidnapping. Luckily, Lisa had managed to ascertain them that her father was not involved in any way, and he had been released but remained under close surveillance. She hoped to be in touch soon with Rachel, so that the girl could testify the truth and help Lisa's case.

She still had a slim chance of a fair trial, however, because of the infamous Sheila and the evidence that pointed in every direction to her false guilt. Her father explained to her that he'd hired a renowned lawyer to help her case and with that small hope and the probability of Rachel testifying, there was a minute chance.

Lisa stuck her finger in a hole in the table and twisted angrily, trying to calm herself down. None of that would help. But the injustice just got to her, struck her of how truly unfair this whole thing was.

She hadn't wanted any of this, hadn't deserved any of this, but it was obviously what she got. It wasn't fair that a person like Jackson Rippner be left free to roam the streets while she rotted in jail.

_Not yet_, she tried to reason with herself. _The trial is in three weeks. You DO have a chance, Lisa. Nobody's giving up on you yet, so you shouldn't either._

Detective Vrampton sighed, obviously annoyed, and slapped a folder on the table, leaning back in his chair. "You're free to go."

"I can go?" Lisa jumped from her chair, beaming. "I don't have to stay?"

"At the moment, we can't incarcerate you without good reason. All we have is one witness that proves your guilt, so until the trial, you don't have to stay here. Of course, an officer _will_ be watching you at all times, I hope you know that."

She nodded. "Of course." She motioned to the door. "So, can I….?"

He scowled. "Go."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Tuesday, December 27, 2006 

**10:00 PM**

Rachel let Gina take her hand as her mother unlocked the door and let them inside. Her father and brother followed at her heels, unwilling to let her walk half a step in front of them for fear she would injure herself somehow.

She moved through the rooms as her mother played through the messages in the kitchen. She turned her head away from the door as her ears took snapshots of each call.

"Hi, Sam, this is Laura, just wanted to express my sympathy for--"

"This is Detective Maddox down at the station, I have news--"

"Redford, this is Nolan, I got your message, pick up the phone--"

Rachel listened as her mother erased the old ones and began skimming through the new.

"Rachel, sweetheart, this is Mrs. Hungerford from school. I just wanted to let you I'm thinking of you--"

"Hi, this is Tina Morris calling for Rachel--"

"This is Veronica from Time Magazine, we were wondering if we could stop by sometime and talk to Rachel about--"

Rachel rubbed her face and tried to ignore them. She was sick of all this attention. She'd never been looking for the spotlight before, but now it was worse due to her increased lack of interest in life. Gina glanced at her sister and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm kindly.

"That's a nice necklace," Gina said sweetly, nodding at Rachel's chest. Rachel looked down. The AR pendant still hung over her pajama top, unchanged, staring at her with a bit of mirth despite the circumstances. Rachel wanted to rip it off right then and there and crush it in her fingers. She hated the stupid thing, just a spiteful reminder of what she'd been through and of her desertion. But she didn't, for the simple reason that it was the only piece of _him_ she had left. "Have you had it long?"

"No," Rachel muttered, rolling it between her fingers. "Actually, not long at all."

"Where did you get it?"

"A friend." Kind of. Rachel would never tell who exactly had given it to her, even if she had to lie. Because if she told the truth, it would be taken from her forever.

"Who--"

Rachel, shaking her head and trying to block her sister out, suddenly picked up again on the answering machine in the kitchen.

"Rachel, this is Lisa Reisert. I'm kind of in a bit—ok, well, a lot—of legal trouble and I could really use--"

Rachel ran out. "Mom!" she cried. "Don't delete that!"

"Who is it?" her mother frowned, her finger hovering over the 'Erase' button. "I don't remember ever meeting a Lisa."

"That's because I only met her a few days ago," Rachel said pointedly. "She was—well—kidnapped by Alex's friend."

"Alex?"

"Alec." Rachel cleared her throat. There was no need yet for her to find out that Lisa and Alex were, in fact, related. "Slip of the tongue."

"I see." Her mother handed her the phone and the pad of paper with the message scrawled in neat cursive. "Here. Go ahead and call her back. I think that's the number of the station down there."

When Rachel dialed the police station in Orlando, she was redirected to Lisa's home phone in Miami. At first, Lisa's voicemail began to pick it up, but at Rachel's voice was answered. She moved to the bathroom and locked herself in for privacy.

"Rach!" Lisa cried ecstatically. "Oh, sweetie, how are you? Are you doing okay?"

"I'm…" Rachel twirled her necklace around her fingers, letting the chain slide through her grip. "I'm…alive. That's good, right?"

"But not great," Lisa muttered. Rachel brushed away tears at her eyes. "Honey, I'm so sorry that you had to get dragged into this."

"It wasn't your fault." That reminded Rachel of the initial reason for calling, so she moved along. "I got your message."

"Yeah," Lisa paused, seemingly uncertain of whether or not to continue. "I kind of—would you—ok. Here's the thing. My trial is in three weeks, and I need a witness to help save me from jail, and badly. You're the only one I know who could help me other than an old lady and a small child who were on the plane. Plus—and they'll be springing this on you soon, too, trust me—they're starting to think I helped to kidnap you."

"What?" Rachel cried, flabbergasted. "That's insane!"

"So is thinking that I blew up my hotel and killed my friend," Lisa said, a catch forming in her voice. Rachel bit her lip.

"This is hard," she whispered sympathetically.

"Yeah."

"Why…why did they do that?"

It touched Rachel that Lisa didn't ask for confirmation of what she meant. "I don't know, babe. It's hard to tell why. For me, I guess, Jackson was just a little more self-absorbed than I thought. I guess, to him, I wasn't worth the risk."

"And the same for Alex," Rachel muttered, feeling bitter and depressed.

"No," Lisa argued gently. "I don't think so. I know Alex, Rach, and I know that he _never_ lets go of what he feels is rightly his. He loved you more than the world, sweetie, and there must have been reason for why he left you behind."

"But he promised," Rachel whispered, a tear falling from her eye. "He _promised_ me that he wouldn't leave again."

There was a long, dilated pause before Lisa spoke again. "Well, I guess sometimes promises are meant to be broken."


	45. and creates fragmented bits of memories

Sunday, December 31, 2006 

**11:42 PM**

Rachel hardly knew what to do with herself anymore. She'd fallen into a bit of a lopsided routine, fueled only by her determination to spite Alex. She'd decided, a few days back, that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her die inwardly like this. So while it still hurt, while she still wished for nothing more than death, she wore a mask. A compliant mask that spoke politely to her parents, answered the detectives, and tried to go back to life before she'd been kidnapped.

Rachel would wake late in the morning, usually after ten, and shower. She would try to read, before getting frustrated with whatever whiny character happened to be starring, and then attempt to watch television with Chris. She would do so for about half an hour, and then force down whatever lunch her mother made her eat. Rachel told herself that the reason she wasn't eating wasn't because she was depressed—it was merely because she wasn't hungry. That part was true. She was thoroughly repulsed all of the time.

Her day would be a myriad of events that mostly tickled her frustration and ended with her sitting in her room for hours, reflecting upon a long-forgotten hobby—her keyboard. She would lock herself in her room and pound away at the keys until her fingers bled. Song after song she composed in the few short days that felt like months. It was her escape. When she was playing, she forgot about him.

Rachel's parents seemed pleased with her progress, despite her appetite or lack thereof. They encouraged her to live, to not be so worried that he'd be back. They let her roam freely outside of the house, which was not so much as a privilege as they liked to think. Rachel attempted to walk her usual path one afternoon, but the falling snow and the barely covered tracks brought her back to that fateful evening. So, most of the time, she stayed inside.

She refused to do interviews, except for the local newspaper, which she felt an obligation to. Besides, she reasoned, it would be better that her truthful story be printed now rather than let it wait until she went back to school and the rumors started to fly. Rachel didn't tell them anymore except the minute details of how she'd been kidnapped, why, and how she had been treated. Decently. But she knew they would twist it anyway, to make Alex sound like a monstrous murderer, pedophile, and rapist—which he wasn't. Only she would know that truth.

Rachel did, however, testify for the police, making sure the information was sent to the department in Orlando for Lisa. She told them about Alex—leaving out as much as possible—and his assassination plot for her uncle, and how Lisa had not in one way been involved with that job or the Keefe murder. She hoped daily that Lisa would make it out of this trouble. She was grateful that she wasn't being targeted for the Keefe murder as well.

"Here you go." Rachel looked up from her uneaten slice of cake as her father handed her a glass of champagne. She frowned at it.

"I thought you didn't like me drinking this stuff." Her father shrugged. He'd always been intolerant of her underage tasters when she vacationed with her uncle.

"You're sixteen, babe," he clapped her on the shoulder and spoke above the din in the room. "But you have more years on you than I do. You deserve this much. Go ahead."

She smiled and thanked him, before rising to her feet and searching the room for her uncle. He was sitting in the corner, his leg propped up on the couch. He grinned and patted the seat next to him.

"There's my girl," he said, wrapping an arm around her as she sat. He—and the rest of her family—had been increasingly protective and loving towards her since the ordeal. Which, really, she realized, was only to be expected. But the honest tenderness in their voices still got her every time and almost—but only almost—made her forget about Alex.

"It's almost midnight," she stated obviously, nodding at the wall clock. "And then it will be 2007."

"You bet. Any resolutions?"

Rachel bit her lip, thinking. She hadn't really pondered that as of yet. What _did_ she resolve to do? Stop thinking about Alex, that would be nice, but of course she couldn't tell her uncle that. She cleared her throat. "I want to move on. I'm sick of thinking about what happened, and I'd like to go back to normal."

He nodded slowly, finally speaking. "That sounds like a good plan if I've ever heard of one."

The congregation in the room—which consisted of the entire Redford/Nolan clan, began chanting the countdown as the clock and television broadcast sped closer to the new year. Rachel felt her breath getting shallow as she sipped her champagne.

Suddenly, she was reminded of the countdown to Christmas. The champagne. Lying on the carpet. Without warning, Rachel felt the urge to slide to the carpet and rest her face on the soft floor. She stood from the couch, not hearing her uncle as he called her name.

She reached out—Alex was so close. She could see him, smiling at her and touching her cheek as she rested on the floor. She touched his shoulder, her other hand falling around her necklace.

As the crowd rang in 2007, Rachel fell from her standing position—so close from making it to the carpet—and collapsed, fainting as Alex's face slowly faded away.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Tuesday, January 2, 2007 

**7:32 PM**

Rachel slammed her door. "I don't need to see a shrink!"

Her mother ignored the closed access and intruded Rachel's space anyway. "Yes, Rach, you do! You collapsed New Year's Eve, you're obviously seeing things, you're overly paranoid, and the worst—I can't get you to eat! I'm worried, Rachel, that this ordeal with Rocher might have had more of an effect on you than you'd like to believe."

Rachel glared at her. "I. Am. Fine. Leave. Me. Alone."

Her mother, chest rising and falling in worried heaves, suddenly cast her eyes downward, down to Rachel's chest. Rachel originally thought that the reason for her mother's suddenly watery eyes was the long bruise that surrounded her neck as a result of one of Alex's punishments, but when her mother reached out and touched her necklace, Rachel felt sick. She backed away, stumbling towards the wall and clutching the chain.

"What's that?" her mother whispered. Rachel looked into her eyes. She knew. There was no point in lying, but she did anyway.

"It was just—a gift from a friend."

"From him."

Rachel forced a look of utmost confusion, feeling dirty. "Who?"

Her mother licked her lips, sadness smothering her features. "You know who. _That_ man. That evil, horrible man."

"He never did anything to me, Mother," Rachel shook her head. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Look down, Rachel," her mother snapped, suddenly curt. "Look at yourself. You're bruised, you're scarred, all over. He did that to you. And you're attached to him. Why?"

"He did _not_ do this to me!" Rachel screamed. "I did this to _myself!_ I didn't trust him, I didn't listen to what he told me! Everything that's wrong with me is _my_ fault, not his! He did _nothing!_"

"He tried to kill you. Your uncle."

"He did not," Rachel took a breath. _Now._ She had to say it now. "He didn't try to kill me. He didn't want to. And he had no choice with Uncle Freddie. It was—he just had to, all right?"

"How do you know that the man who did this to you—and he did, Rachel, whether you choose to believe it or not—cared about you? Why would he not want to harm you?"

"Because, Mom," Rachel sucked in a gasp of air. "He loved me. And…and I love him."

She was shocked wordless when her mother slapped her across the face. Rachel stumbled backwards, her face a mask of hurt and confusion, matching her mother's. She'd never hit her before.

"I--" Rachel began, but her mother's short voice halted her speech as she strode briskly from the room.

"After school tomorrow, you're going to see Dr. Walker."


	46. that make it difficult to swallow

A/N: I just realized how long this story really is getting. 45 chapters. I plan to end at fifty. That's a lot….hm…a big thank you and a cyber hug to those who've stuck with me for so long!

**Xx**

**Tuesday, January 2, 2007**

**8:02 AM**

Rachel was unbuckled before the car had coasted to a stop outside of the large brick building. As she stuffed her mp3 player back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, she heard her mother clear her throat.

"Rachel--"

Rachel slammed the door in her face and walked briskly into school, her face burning with anger and humiliation. She hadn't spoken once to her mother since their ordeal last night, seething with a white-hot anger at her mother's reaction to her confession.

Not that she was surprised.

She'd heard them talking late at night, her parents, about what to do with her. The shrink was a definite, but they were wondering to what extremes to take her counseling to. Obviously, something was _seriously_ wrong with her.

If only Rachel could work up the courage to tell them who Alex _really_ was. How he was Dan, and not some creepy psycho-murderer. But whenever a fraction of her brain would consider it, the other half would worriedly wave it away. If she told, then Lisa would surely be linked to Rachel's kidnapping, and that would put her closer in line for capital punishment or life sentence.

Her mother had attempted to reconcile with her that morning, but Rachel would have none of it. She wasn't ready to forgive her for the violation of Rachel's personal space and sanity.

Rachel gingerly set her books on her homeroom desk and tenderly sat in her chair. The pain that shot up her spine was just another reminder of Alex, and how he'd shoved her against the wall what seemed like forever ago. He was gone, but the bruises remained.

She knew she was drawing stares as she busied herself with her pen, uncapping and capping it. A girl approached, ready to say something, and then hurried away, her face flushing.

_Before, I was the girl who everybody wanted to avoid. Now, I'm the girl who everybody wants to talk to._

"Rachel." She looked up, into the eyes of her first-period teacher, Mr. Benne. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, looking away. He stepped closer.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to--"

"Really," she said, a bit more snappishly than she would have liked, "I'm fine." He walked away.

The rest of the day went exactly as Rachel would have anticipated, up until lunch. She would have expected to be left in peace to eat, although she expected the stares. However, as soon as she had set her bagged lunch on the plastic table, half a dozen girls and their significant others flocked to her attendance.

"Rachel!" one squealed happily, plopping into the chair next to her and touching her arm in a friendly fashion. Rachel had no idea who she was, and made it evident as she frowned and ignored her. "Oh my God, how _are_ you?"

"Just swell."

She heard the titters that surrounded her sarcasm, as they obviously thought that she'd _meant_ to be funny. She hadn't. She really didn't care.

"So, I love your necklace," one girl gasped, reaching out to touch it. Rachel backed away, clutching the pendant tightly in her grasp.

"Thank you," she replied stiffly, not touching her food. "A friend gave it to me."

There was a pause, in which Rachel studied the thug across from her as he shoveled hamburger into his oversized mouth. _Too much red meat can kill you._

"When is the trial?" Rachel looked up just in time to see one of the girls punching the guy who'd said it in the arm. "Uh…sorry?"

"Asshole," the girl mumbled, shooting a sheepish glance at Rachel. "Excuse him, please."

There was another hesitation, before Rachel forced out, "There won't be one."

Another ripple of conversation. "What?"

"They didn't catch him," Rachel snapped. "They can't trial a ghost."

"Oh."

She felt a stare, and turned to see the girl next to her looking intently at her. "You are so pretty," she marveled, shaking her head. _Was I pretty before all this happened, or am I just pretty now so that you can be in Time Magazine?_

"Thank you."

"It's just so horrible," the girl scoffed. "That those creepy murderers have to kidnap the prettiest girls. I think that's why they do it. So they can get some, or whatever." She rolled her eyes, obviously meaning it to be a joke, and the group laughed. Rachel, on the other hand, felt sick.

Another girl looked at Rachel's neck. "What happened?"

"I…" _The bathroom. Alex. Kiss._ "I'm…"

Rachel pushed away from the table. Bathroom. She needed to get to a bathroom before she was sick.

She made it halfway across the quad before she collapsed in the snow, emptying the meager contents of her stomach across the ice. She felt a large hand pulling her hair back, and rubbing circles on her back. In her weakened state, she had no way to protest, but when she was finished, she attempted to rise timidly on wobbly legs.

A tall, muscular boy she knew to be a senior dug in his pocket for a tissue and wordlessly handed it to her.

"T-thank you," she whispered, trembling and feeling clammy. "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're not," he replied in a deep voice. "Come on."

Rachel had no choice but to follow him to a secluded bench, shivering in her sweater. He sat and handed her another tissue, as she wiped the involuntary tears from her eyes and her mouth again.

He paused. "I saw what happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Yes," he argued, though not unkindly. "In the cafeteria. With the girls. They're idiots, Rachel."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I—I don't really remember you."

He smiled broadly, displaying a set of straight white teeth. "It's fine. We've never really been introduced, I've just—noticed you. My name is Lou Whitman."

"Nice to meet you. And thank you."

"You're welcome," he laughed, brushing a hand through his short black hair. "And don't worry about them."

"Who?"

"The girls," he sighed. "They're just looking for a little press coverage, they don't mean anything they say."

"It wasn't them that bothered me," Rachel paused. "It was actually what they said. They brought up things that I'd rather not think about again."

"I see," he stared intently at her, his brown eyes wide. "I heard about that. I'd say I'm sorry, but that seems to be a bit too emotionless for my liking. Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded, then shrugged. "Like I said. I'm fine. I'm alive." Rachel stood. "I better go to the nurse or something."

He wagged his head as well. "I'll come with you. Don't want you collapsing or anything."

"That would be bad."

He shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked briskly down the hall. They stopped outside of the nurse's. "Okay, then, Rachel. Will I see you around?"

She nodded, smiling, for the first time in weeks, what seemed like a genuine smile. "Yeah. That would be very nice."


	47. The time is running out

A/N: So pay close attention to the date on this one, guys: it's set two weeks after the last chapter. I was thinking of continuing to write it out day by day, or even every few days, but I decided not to because it would basically just be—Rachel eats, Lisa eats, Rachel goes to school, Lisa meets with detectives, Rachel goes home, Lisa goes home, Rachel goes to sleep, Lisa goes to sleep, Alex pouts, Jackson plots. Ok? Ok.

**Thanks for sticking with me, guys!!**

**Xx**

**Wednesday, January17, 2007**

**10:34 PM**

Rachel beamed happily as she pulled clumps of hangers from her closet and tossed them on her bed, then dug her navy blue suitcase out from under her bed. Flicking a dust bunny off the top of it and dragging it up to rest on her mattress, she realized, for once, how genuinely excited she was.

She was going to Boston. And it wasn't just any ordinary trip, but she had the opportunity to do something she loved. Play music. Play music with a boy who was quickly becoming a close friend, Lou Whitman.

It had been gradual, the change in their relationship. One afternoon, he'd caught her in a music practice room at school, her fingers flying intently over the piano's keys. He knocked politely on the door, and when Rachel didn't see him, a bit more curtly. She had stood and let him in.

Lou nodded at the piano. "You play?"

"A bit."

He shook his head, touching his chin as a smirk spread over his lips. "That's a lot more than a bit, Rach. You're amazing."

She felt a crimson flush spread up her face and pulled her turtleneck up. "Thanks," she mumbled.

Lou flopped into a chair adjacent to her piano bench and leaned back, crossing his arms as he thought. "I have a proposition for you," he broached finally.

"Do tell."

"You may or may not have heard of my band," Lou said proudly. "We're called Thorax."

"It sounds techno," Rachel nodded, but let him continue.

"It's alt rock. Long story short, we're not too bad, and have a gig booked in Cambridge on the eighteenth."

Rachel counted on her fingers. "Two weeks."

"Yep. And…"

She smiled. "You need a keyboardist."

He flashed her a toothy smile. "Exactly. You interested?"

"When do you rehearse?"

After discovering the true chemistry that she had with the band that evening, Rachel began to find her nitch back into society. Less of her thoughts revolved around memories of Alex, and she began to marvel at her sudden happiness, and at the strangest of times. Most were when she was playing.

Rachel was astonished at the small bit of trust she'd begun to place in not only Lou but her two other bandmates, Zozo (who officially refused to be called by anything but her nickname) and Martin. She'd never really been able to rely on anybody except family before, but things were starting to change.

She felt safe.

Now, humming to herself one of her songs, she snapped her suitcase closed and set it on the floor next to her purse. Beginning to feel a bit warm from her efforts, she cracked open her window and stuck her head out into the frigid January air. The wind whipped her hair in her face, into her mouth, a million different directions as Rachel sucked in the refreshing breeze.

She looked around at her illuminated yard as her father cut the outside lights to go to sleep. It still scared her, that lawn. The snow had finally covered up those thick, heavy footprints, but she remembered. She probably always would, because it wasn't an elementary memory that would be easily wiped from her brain. Feeling another emotional explosion brewing, Rachel pulled back inside.

As her parents chatted quietly in their bedroom across the hall, Rachel prepared herself for bed. It was late, she knew, and she was leaving bright and early in the morning as per Lou's request. They wanted to beat traffic, or so he said. He probably just wanted to get the early morning discount at Percy's Lattes.

Rachel pulled her pajamas on, tightening the drawstring at her waist as she sighed at her reflection in the mirror. She'd lost a lot of weight in the past few weeks, because of her disinterest in food. Her parents were worried, still, she knew, but when they were watching, she made sure to force smiles and cheery dispositions. It was only in private that she cried anymore.

The shrink, Beth, was better than Rachel had expected, but equally annoying. She didn't help. The only thing, Rachel found, that helped was the music. Not the inkblots, and not the mid evening chats with a middle-aged woman in Dior.

She was dragging a brush through her hair when her eye spotted the unusual envelope on her desk. She frowned at it before padding over, her fingers grazing the smooth white lining, and opening it. A note fell out.

Rach— 

_Good to see you're moving on with your life. Just so you know—I'm not. I won't go into details now. _

_I see you're playing piano again. That's good. I always thought that you were amazing at it, but it shocks me that it took some dorky seventeen-year-old to make you realize it._

_This isn't meant to scare you, and it isn't meant to intimidate you. But I will say this:_

_Don't think about Lou. I see how he looks at you, and yes, Rachel, the fact that I'm watching you goes without saying. And if he asks, sweetie, you just remind him—you are MINE. Not his. Ever. I won't let you fall victim to another teenage wasteland._

_Just remember. You're still wearing my necklace. _

_I'll see you soon, Rachel, and remember._

_I love you._

_Love always,_

_Alex_

Her first inclination was to scream, but then, with the aching in her throat already beginning, Rachel clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress it. She wouldn't scream, not with her parents so close. If they heard her, she wouldn't be allowed to go on the trip. They were wary about it as it was, only appeasing her because she told them that Zozo's grandmother lived in Boston and that they were staying nearby.

And besides, if Alex was watching, which he most likely was, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her nervous. She wondered how he'd snuck in here. The window, that had to be it, when she had been at school. Rachel moved now to the spiteful object and locked it shut.

Video cameras. There must be those, because when her parents were home—how would he manage to sneak about outside? She looked her room, and, upon not seeing any, sighed in defeat.

She had no idea why the note scared her. It was the intensity, she decided, upon which he claimed her as his property—instead of as what she was, a human being with rights and emotions. And his obvious loath of Lou, an innocent boy he'd never met.

"This is the end, Alex," Rachel whispered, turning the note in her hands. "Whether you choose to believe it or not."

XxxxxxxX

Alex leaned back in his seat and turned on his side to look at Jackson, who wore an irritated expression that threatened war.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"I know." Alex twiddled with the knobs on his cameras and watched as Rachel checked the lock on her window again and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head. He smiled. Like a toddler, with her fear of the night—or was it of the creatures that accompanied the darkness?

Jackson stuck the key in the ignition and they began to drive down the winding New York road. He squinted through the lightly falling snow and began to drag the car the hundred miles back to the hotel in Albany.

"I can't believe you made me come up here," Jackson snapped irritably. "Just so you could stalk your ex-girlfriend."

"There's no 'ex' in that title, Jackson," Alex growled, with just as much bite. "She is _mine_. Not that asshole who chooses to believe so."

"He talked to her," Jackson said simply, gesturing obscurely. "Who cares? Cut the frigging cord already. You're damn lucky that nobody caught you sneaking that note in there. What was the point, anyway, other than to potentially legally fuck you up?"

Alex paused, drawing the words out pregnantly. "I had to," he muttered. "I needed to see her. And let her know that…that I haven't forgotten."

"I don't think that's something that requires saying in a note that also conveniently highlights her new boyfriend's doom."

Alex grimaced. "Not new boyfriend. Never. I'd kill him first." He paused before continuing. "I'm going to Boston with her tomorrow."

"I'm sure she'd love to know that you're stalking her again," Jackson rolled his eyes and fiddled with the temperature console. "Don't go tomorrow. It's risky."

"Its been two weeks. She hasn't given a description, and Nolan and that retarded cashier kid's were too vague to count for anything."

"Not many people have been slashed down their faces by a knife, Alex," Jackson pointed out, settling on a heat and leaning back.

"Makeup," he stated bluntly. "And a hood. By the time I have her, nobody will have noticed and it'll be too late for them to do anything."

"You're digging yourself a grave," was all Jackson would add. Alex reclined his chair and closed his eyes, letting Jackson's words just linger in the air, not exactly absorbing them into his consciousness.

_He's wrong. By this time tomorrow, everything will be back to normal._


	48. when the orders are dealt like cards

**A/N: Only a few more left! Thanks, reviewers!**

**Xx**

**January 18, 2007**

**6:30 PM**

"…happy for you, Rach," Lisa said, smiling a bit miserably as she moved through the grocery store. She plucked a mango from the barrel in front of her and tossed it effortlessly into her basket, not really caring if it bruised or not. "I wish I could be there, but with the trial so soon, the state's not exactly keen, or willing at all, really, to let me out of Miami. Let alone all the way to Massachussetts."

"It's no problem," Rachel chirped. "My friend's grandmother's taping the whole thing. We were kind of annoyed with that entire concept before, but all of our parents said we couldn't go if our first major gig wasn't documented."

"Cambridge is really big, you know," Lisa encouraged. "Especially for a small-town band. You guys must be good."

"They are," Rachel replied modestly. It was then that Lisa noticed the small lilt in her young friend's voice.

"Are you okay?"

Rachel paused, and Lisa wondered for a moment if the connection had been lost. She dragged herself over by the dairy aisle, holding up her phone for better reception. "Rach?"

"I found a note."

Lisa frowned. "A note?"

"From Alex."

"Um," Lisa bit her lip, shocked to say the least, and not quite knowing how to continue. "Did—where did you find it? What did it say?"

"In my room. He's been watching me, Leese." Well, at least that rested her nerves about Jackson. Those two were inseparable, so if Alex was stalking Rachel, at least Jackson wasn't stalking Lisa. For a moment, she felt a bit of guilt for feeling relief, since after all, Rachel's well-being was a hell of a lot more important than her own. She forced herself to focus on what Rachel was saying now. "The note said that he was coming back. That it wasn't over. And Lou."

"What about Lou?" Lisa had heard snippets about the boy from their daily phone calls, but not enough to stir her interest.

"Threats. He doesn't like how Lou's become my friend," Rachel said, then hesitated. "I hate him. He's ruining my life."

"Alex?" Lisa was quickly becoming confused. "Rach, don't--"

"I can't _relax_ anymore!" Rachel cried. "I get those few rare moments when I let my guard down, like last night, and then he _does_ something again! I just want him to be gone. Forever. So I can move the hell on."

Lisa fought back her own tears, shocked yet relieved at the girl's blunt statement of the emotions that Lisa also so truly felt, but with Jackson. She was exactly right.

Rachel sighed. "Well, I have to go."

"Be careful," Lisa cautioned. "Stay with your group at all times, do you hear me? It's bad enough that you don't know the city, but you guys are young."

"I don't need to be reminded," Rachel moaned bitterly, then she cleared her throat, gluing a cheerful banter back over her gloomy voice once more. "I have to go, Leese. The guys are done unpacking and just came in. We're going down to the club where we're playing to set up. I'll call you after, okay?"

Lisa nodded to herself. "Okay."

Hanging up and pocketing her phone, she surveyed the row of melons. An hour ago, she'd had the most acute hankering for a fruit salad, but now, she wasn't so sure. Lisa moved swiftly to the frozen foods aisle and tapped her chin as she pondered over Ben and Jerry's or Haagen Daaz.

"Screw healthy eating," Lisa muttered. "Healthy eating is for happy people."

"And you don't fall under that category?"

Lisa spun around, her basket dropping to the floor and scattering its contents down the aisle. She watched, slightly dazed, as the mango rolled to the opposite end and came to a rest underneath Jackson Rippner's thick-soled boot.

"No," she said plainly, grabbing for her purse and backing swiftly down the aisle. "I don't."

She had broken into a run when he caught up to her, seizing her shoulder and gruffly spinning her around to face him.

"Let go of me," she hissed. "Get the _fuck_ out of my life."

"Not yet," he replied, his voice thick and raspy, just the way that made Lisa want to kill him and kiss him at the same time. She pushed him away. "Our business isn't finished, Leese."

"I don't care!" she yelled. "Stay away! You left me once, why is it so hard to do it again?"

Jackson tightly grabbed hold of Lisa's arms, which sent her mind reeling in adrenaline-induced terror. She pulled herself free and managed to slap him harshly across the face. The collision left a bright red handprint that was a not-so-discreet reminder of her rebellion. Jackson seethed, and pulled her to the next aisle as cleanup crews approached the mess.

"You want to get arrested, Lisa, then by all means, continue your tantrum," he hissed quietly into her ear. "But if you value a life, I'd shut the hell up and come with me."

"I could just as easily get you into trouble," Lisa growled, feeling like a petulant fourth-grader as she jabbed a finger into his chest. "All I'd have to do is--"

"Is what? Who'll believe you? Some random guy in the grocery store is suddenly Keefe's murderer?" Jackson spat. "I knew your life had gone downhill, Leese, but I thought you had a fraction of sense left in you."

"You're supposed to be in Cambridge," she moaned abruptly, her infamous sense kicking in as her knees buckled. It was Jackson or prison, and he was making that choice extremely evident.

Lisa abhorred her indecisiveness. She'd been furious when Jackson had left her, but now that he was back, she wanted him out of her sight. It was the betrayal, she decided, that had suddenly turned into her anger and loathing. Lisa had trust issues as it was, and the fact that Jackson had built up what had remained of it before crushing it mercilessly was what was irking her now.

But if she had to choose—and she did—between jail and Jack, she'd definitely pick the latter. Because although his methods were certainly uncouth to say the least, at least she could hit him. Whereas if she slugged a prison guard, she'd probably be sent to a higher-security prison. So she surrendered, letting Jackson lead her to the car parked subtly down the street, letting him answer question after question that she tossed at him.

"I'm not in Cambridge because Rachel Redford is none of my business," he explained as he ushered her quickly from the store, ignoring the customers that flocked to the mysterious chaos on the dairy aisle floor. "What Alex does is his decision, and I'd advise you to stay out of it as well."

"He's my brother," Lisa snapped crankily as he took an iron hold on her elbow. "I have the right to--"

"Do yourself a favor and don't even finish that sentence," Jackson grouched.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"The car."

"No shit."

"To the airport."

"On a plane to…?" Lisa prodded. "And Part B—am I allowed to call my dad?"

"A plane to a country," Jackson said, "of whose identity will remain hidden to you until we board such plane. And no, you are not allowed to call your father. Are you twelve?"

Lisa pouted as she opened her door. "Why not?"

"Think, Leese," Jackson sighed, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. "Even without your dad's meaning to, it could bring the cops swarming to our exact location. When we're secure, maybe. But at the moment, you're just damn lucky that I've found the grace to harbor a fugitive."

Lisa scowled. "Yeah, you're a friggin' Mother Teresa. Speaking of which, where are the cops? Sergeant Thaddeus is supposed to tail me a tall times, remember?"

Jackson flushed as he backed out of the lot. "He's otherwise occupied at the moment—and no, I didn't kill him, Leese."

"I wasn't going to ask," Lisa murmured as her eye fell upon the burning car adjacent to the grocery store. She paled. "Oh, my—Jackson, is that--"

He beamed proudly, speeding up. "Yup. Thaddeus was sleeping when I did it, and with the remains I put--"

"No, Jackson," Lisa felt sick. "No need to continue. I get the picture. So what you're saying is--"

"You're as good as dead, Leese."

**Author's Note: Okay, before the fanfiction hordes come after me with their pitchforks and burning torches, I _know_ that Jackson was in New York, like, a day ago. But that is the miracle of aviation, my friends. That's why he and Alex were in Albany. Now that that's established…let's….kay. :P **


	49. and the game is winding down

A/N: I think I need a tissue! These are the last two chapters, guys, before we're done for good. sobs Okay. Now here they are. Please review, as always.  

Xx

**Thursday, January 18, 2007**

**8:00 PM**

Rachel's fingers flew from the keyboard as the final chords were plucked from the air and turned to glance at Lou as the audience did their thing. She smiled, and he beamed happily back at her, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"That was awesome!" he yelled over the din. Rachel grinned and flashed him a thumbs-up sign.

"That was 'Kremlin'," Lou shouted into the microphone, partially quieting the crowd. Rachel stretched her fingers and sipped her bottled water as she scanned the audience.

Everybody looked so excited, so thrilled to be there just for the music. Rachel felt the same way. The time had flown by. Their forty-five minute set list was coming to a close, and she was nearly sad by it's departure. Being in a band was fun, she realized as Lou announced the final number and began to introduce his band mates.

As Lou screamed the names of the drummer and the bassist, Rachel readied herself for her name and then the song. As she set back down her water, her eye caught a flash of something familiar in the crowd. Whippet-quick, she turned rapidly back around, her heart racing.

He was there. Alex. Under that hood. She'd seen the eyes. The scar.

"Rachel Redford!" Rachel snapped to attention and forced a nervous smile as she waved to the audience. When she spoke into the microphone, her voice was shaking despite her best efforts to control it.

"And the man who—who started it all—Al—Lou Whitman!" Rachel said, hurriedly returning to her post. Lou stared at her, a frown wrinkling his nose.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed, sensing her anxiety. She nodded, sweaty, as they started the next song.

Rachel couldn't focus. She missed at least half of her notes and sensed the tension radiating from her band members when she messed up. But she couldn't help it. Halfway through the song, she chanced a glance back out into the audience. He was gone. Had she imagined it?

She let herself believe that as they unpacked and loaded their things back into the van. Lou grabbed her arm as she carefully stored her keyboard case between the amps.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Rachel bristled slightly and backed away. "But I'm not taking the van back. I think I'm going to walk to the hotel. I need a little air."

He beamed at her, his hair frosty where the sweat had turned to ice. "I'll come with you. Could use the exercise."

She couldn't refuse without looking suspicious—and if she looked distrustful in the least, all Lou had to do was call her parents. "Okay."

Rachel hugged herself as they walked briskly down the Cambridge street. Lou jumped suddenly, making Rachel's heart race.

"God," she gasped as he laughed.

"Sorry," he replied eagerly. "I just remembered—there's this great little café that I have to take you to before we go. It's amazing. Best coffee in the world."

"Sounds good."

"How about now?"

Rachel paused, biting her lip. Since she hadn't had the opportunity to at least walk alone and clear her mind, she was hoping to be able to lock herself in the hotel room and go to sleep. Of course, Zozo was sharing with her, but that didn't mean they had to talk. "Um. Okay."

"Great!" Rachel submitted and let Lou lead her to the green line that would take them back to downtown Boston. Onboard the quiet train, there were only about twenty people. A few late-night commuters, a homeless man, a family, and some teenagers. Nothing to get excited over. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as she found a seat next to Lou.

She tried not to get edgy as he wrapped his arm around the seat behind her. It meant nothing. He was just relaxing. Lou didn't like her that way. They were friends. He was one of the few who she could talk to about The Incident without feeling as if she were some sort of a circus freak or celebrity.

Lou was still chattering about the concert. "—and when I announced your name, wow! I thought they were going to explode, the way they clapped!"

Rachel forced a modest smile. "Nah. Seriously, Lou. It's just because of the recent press coverage on me. I doubt it has anything to do with my mediocre keyboarding skills."

"Mediocre my ass," he argued, investing himself personally in her self-esteem. "You were great out there, tonight, Rach. Honestly. And don't say it's the press coverage. Because if it were that, then I'd feel some serious shit about my band right now."

She laughed, beginning to unwind and actually look forward to that coffee. Maybe some down time with a friend was just what she needed.

The train rattled on in silence for a few moments, stopping here and there to deposit or pick up passengers. Rachel felt herself drifting asleep when Lou said her name.

"Yeah?" she yawned, looking into his eyes. He looked suddenly fretful, sheepish to say the least.

"I—can I talk to you about something?" Obviously he hadn't detected her little snooze, so she nodded.

"Shoot."

"I—um—I know this is weird to be asking you, so just bear with me, all right? Let me ask you, and then I'll explain."

"Gotcha." Rachel felt the knot in her stomach that told her what was coming before he actually said it.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Yup. She'd been anticipating but it still made her guts contort. "I--"

"Wait. Let me explain. I've liked you for more than a year now, always too scared to say anything. When I heard what had happened with Rocher, I was—I was devastated, to say the least. I didn't sleep for a week, the television on and my phone at my side, waiting for news. When they found you, Rach—it was one of the best days of my life.

And then, when you were sick, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Me, the gentleman. I could help you, and we could be friends. And then maybe you would like me. Okay. I'm sorry if I've scared or intimidated you, but I had to tell you. I've been waiting for a year to say that." He took a deep breath and looked expectantly at her.

Rachel was having difficulty breathing. It was so hard, at the moment, to choose from the love she'd left behind to the love she could have now, with Lou. But when it came down to it—

"Lou, I love you so much," she admitted. His face lifted. Now came the hard part. "As a friend. I'm sorry. But I don't think I'm ready to move on yet from what happened—it was hard. For a while, I didn't even have the will to live. But thanks to you, more than even Zozo and Martin, I've started to realize how good things can be if I let them. But really. I'm sorry. You deserve much better than a wreck of a girl like me."

"Not so much of a wreck as a head-on collision," he said. But his lips weren't moving, and the smirk in his voice wasn't matching his crestfallen voice.

Because he wasn't the one talking.

Rachel felt a pair of hands wrench her to her feet, gripping under her arms. She screamed and felt the strong hand clap itself over her mouth. She saw more than heard Lou yell, rise to his feet, and the flash of the silver blade at her neck that silenced him instantly.

"You come any closer and she dies," said her captor. Her captor. He slammed her against the wall of the subway, and the cart rattled as people tittered nearby. Rachel felt the dizzying pain of the window smacking against her back and moaned, trying to establish her footing and look into his face.

"Oh my--"

"Surprised?" Alex smirked at her, that familiar face coming into her conscious again. It _had_ been him in the crowd. She should have gotten the hell out of there and called the police when she'd had the chance. The bastard had probably followed her and Lou the whole way. She fought against him, wrenching from left to right in an attempt to break free.

"Let me _go!_"

He pushed her shoulders harder against the wall, wrapping his feet around her ankles so she couldn't move at all. "Now, Rachel, after all the fuss you put up about me _leaving_ you, I thought you'd be ecstatic that I was back."

Her face hardened. "You left me once, you bastard, and I'm not going to give you the opportunity to do it again."

"So that's what this is about?" Alex laughed, still keeping his voice quiet enough so that the other passengers in the train couldn't identify him. "You're pissed because I left you and now you're playing the little heroine who won't go back? I'm shocked at you, Rach. I thought you were different than that."

Rachel seethed, angry and nervous. "Fuck you. Let me go."

"No. You're coming with me, whether you like it or not. Although, judging your previous actions, I thought you would want to. After what you told your mom."

"What I told my--" Ah. Their little argument. Now she remembered, and the fact that Alex had brought it up enraged her. She swung her fist up to his face, but he anticipated that and deflected her arm by slamming it down and cracking herself in the face. She moaned and nearly lost consciousness as she felt a warm liquid pour from her nose.

"_Bastard!_"

Alex just chuckled, his face a mask of indifference. "Sticks and stones, Rachel."

"Why are you doing this?" she groaned, as Alex clamped a hand around her small wrists. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Well, Rachel," he muttered abstractly. "We were having so much fun before, I wondered, why stop now?"

For some reason, his words sent terror running down her spine. She wondered why. _You love him,_ she told herself. _You're supposed to love him_

_You do love him. _

_That's why you're so afraid._

Alex evidently saw the change from confused and terrified to a more complacent and knowledgeable complexion in her face. She saw then, his grin.

"You get it?" he whispered. "Do you really get it now?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Alex suddenly spun around, still tightly squeezing her arms. She winced as she glanced at Lou, who was shaking and turning a disturbing shade of yellow. It stung her when she realized that she couldn't have both of them. If she chose Alex, her life in northern New York was over. There was no state of balance.

But if that was what she had to sacrifice—so be it.

Alex sensed her inward debate and pulled her to him, whispering in her ear, "When we're secure. Okay?"

She furiously nodded her head at Lou. "Can I at least--"

"No."

"Why not--"

Alex shook her shoulders. "_Nobody can know who I am, Rachel,_" he hissed at her as the train jerked to a stop. He nodded cheerily at the rest of the subway.

"Any of you get off this train and she dies," he chirped as the doors slid open and he ushered Rachel off. She glanced at the passengers in the cart as the train began to rattle away again, and noticed at least five people ripping their cell phones from their bags. It cheered her that so many people were concerned, but worried her.

"Alex, what are we--"

"Don't talk," he grabbed her around the shoulders and began to hurry her from the station. "Just walk."

She obliged, having to break into a near-run to keep up with his long legs. She was out of breath and sweaty again by the time they broke into the crisp air of the wintery night above. Alex didn't break stride as he brought her to a car parked in an alley across the street.

It was only when she'd finally slid inside of the beat-up Camarro that she could finally gasp for air. Rachel was coming back down when Alex started the engine and tore out onto the street.

She hurriedly clicked her seatbelt in, leaning back and brushing her forehead as she scowled at Alex. "Would you slow down? Jesus."

He sighed irritably. "I can't, Rach, not until we get to the airport. Do you realize how many calls must have been sent in to the cops tonight because of our incident on the train?"

"That's not my fault," Rachel snapped crankily. "You're the one who just had to make an entrance. I can't imagine Jackson's overly pleased with you."

"He doesn't care. It's really none of his business. So relax."

Rachel paused, her fingers dancing nervously on the armrest. "Why did you come back?"

Alex glanced at her as he spun into the airport parking garage. "What?"

"You know what. Why are you back for me? It's obviously not safe for you to be doing. Even though you didn't directly compromise your identity on that train, everybody is going to figure out who it is when I'm missing. You'll be a fugitive."

"I wasn't exactly Jim Good Boy before, Rachel," Alex sighed. "But it's not going to matter if I'm a fugitive. Jackson has things all planned out. We're going away, new identities, new home, everything."

"Where?" Rachel realized something. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I won't tell you where," Alex said, "Yet. You'll have to be surprised, because I'm not going to leave you with that much information. And you know why I came back."

"Do I?" Alex cut the engine as they found a spot and began to gather up his things. He ignored her, reaching in the back for his laptop bag. Rachel punched him in the shoulder. "Answer me!"

He looked at her, his green eyes sparkling, and Rachel realized how much things had changed. The first time she'd seen him, he'd been a grinning schoolboy with dark eyes and dark hair, somebody innocent and naïve. The second, he'd been a malicious murderer with a scary gash on his face in the forest. And this time, he was gorgeous. He was salvation. He was love.

"Because I love you," he replied huskily, touching her head. "Duh."

Rachel smiled as he pulled her to him, and they stayed that way, not kissing, but embracing.

Embracing a new life.


	50. Epilogue

A/N: Well, here's the last of it. Thanks to all of you wonderful reviewers, my support, throughout this long haul! It's so depressing to finish this, the end product of all those sleepless nights thinking up plot twists. Thanks again, and here's the epilogue!

**Xx**

Three Years Later 

Four years ago, Lisa had always found it difficult to be cheerful. Now, however, she was rarely anything but elated. It wasn't that life was easy—how could it be, living with two assassins and a nineteen-year-old girl?—but it was _fun._ She stopped trying to pick out the negativity in her life and just let it dissipate on its own.

The days were short on the island. Lisa had hated the hot weather at first, but she'd succumbed to the secluded section of the Canary Islands and used the beautiful climate to her advantage. Every morning, she and Rachel took a long walk on the warm beach in front of the house, before joining Alex and Jackson on the porch for breakfast. The rest of the days were spent with the boys or—if they happened to be gone on a job, as was often the case—wandering the African village that was a four-mile walk from their house. Jackson and Alex came home early most evenings, and the rest of the night the girls spent apart.

Of course they fought. Lisa had come to accept that. She bickered with Rachel, naturally, since being the only female contact did get to be a bit aggravating—but arguments with Jackson tended to be a bit more physical. It was the same with Rachel and Alex—an unavoidable yelling match that led to slamming against the nearest wall, punches, kicks, slaps, whatever. Nothing too brutal, but Lisa had come to ignore the bruises that often popped up on her wrists, satisfied by the even larger one that would show up on Jackson's leg. It was even, and that was all that mattered. As Rachel had pointed out to her once, "These relationships were never ideal from the start. You put two born-fighters together and there's going to be sparks." She was right.

The only thing that mattered was when they came home. Alex and Jackson had a tendency to never neglect Rachel and Lisa, always showering their significant other with affection. That, Rachel had said, was what made it worth it. The kindling of emotion inside, that was what made her stay.

It wasn't perfect. But then, nothing was.

It was merely the best that life could be without being boring.

And that in itself was the definition of perfection.

_Ende. _


End file.
